LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. I 

4 






f UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. J 

n 



w 



MEMOIR 



OF 



JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE 



BY 



V 

WILLIAM SMITH 



BOSTON: 
JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY. 

1846. 



V 



2. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by 

James Munroe and Company, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY THURSTON, TORRY & EMERSON, 

31. Devonshire Street. 



PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 



But few words need be wasted in introducing to Amer- 
ican readers a man so great and self-sufficing as Fichte 
was : so thoroughly able to speak for himself. Only a kindly 
sentence or two, to make us feel perfectly at home in his 
company, and to mark the particular coincidence of his 
genius with our present literary wants and prospects. 

We shall welcome him because he was a man of action : 
and we need him because he was a man of thought. No- 
where can we find so grand a specimen of complete har- 
mony of speculation and practice, such a healthy, sinewy 
nature, constantly proving all his problems by the heroism 
of daily life. Goethe spent eighty years in self-culture : 
Schiller wore himself out with asking Pilate's question, and 
his results were always aesthetic : Schelling rebuked Fichte 
for deserting the scholar's province, and carrying out spec- 
ulation to its ultimates. But that very idea was the best 
in Fichte's possession — if it did not rather possess him — 
namely, that the moral order of the Universe was the ob- 
ject of life. He stood ready to prove this by syllogism or 
by sacrifice : not only by an irreproachable character, but 
by deeds of great note in their time. And these were not 
forced upon him by circumstance or position, or merely 
assumed as stints, but they were elements of him and of 
his system : the necessary results of the man, as much as 



4 PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 

the tone and contour of his features. Therefore we do 
not consider him notable merely because, while the best 
scholars of Germany were elaborating morphologies and 
constructing syntheses of Nature, he humanized life in 
Universities, made virtue the rage, set all the students at 
Napoleon, and was so adroit at revolutionizing Germany, 
that he got his name on the emperor's private proscription- 
list : but because his system of thought would have com- 
pelled him to do the best things in any era, because, in 
short, he represented the union of remote abstraction with 
earnest reality. He was knowledge, and he was power : 
he thought the subtlest thoughts into deeds : he condensed 
that German gas — a result which worthy men among us 
still consider to be too much for the most ponderous hy- 
draulics. 

Then while we smile most shrewdly at some of his met- 
aphysical statements, and the Fichtean Egoism is dismissed 
with general merriment, and flourish of Scotch and Eng- 
lish reviewers' trumpets, we still have a suspicion that all 
is not right, and that it must be the man himself which 
makes his own statement appear so wretched. Fichte had 
his Theory of the Universe : a German would sooner be 
without his pipe than a compact, pocket cosmo-ontology. 
We all construct the same, with more or less absurdity, by 
the same instinct that sets the beaver to build his dam : and 
we are ready to swear by it stoutly to every passenger. 
But the first dun, or new music, or outrage upon misery, 
or note of reform, makes us suddenly serious : we drop 
the cap and bells, and the noblest theory of the universe is 
demonstrated in the play or the gravity of our deeds. Set- 
ting aside Fichte 's bare ontological statement, which after 
all was only a chance stone which he made his fulcrum, 
we find the grandest use and meaning in his moral system, 



PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. O 

and all the merit of practical consistency. His keen analy- 
sis of consciousness, his lofty development of individual 
Freedom, his tender and religious admission of the Infi- 
nite Will, his stern and yet inspiring representations of Duty 
and Virtue, which no young man can read without longing 
with tears to be good and pure and just, — all these noble 
utterances of that strong and honest spirit, will be the com- 
mon property of men's hearts, long after his system of 
Idealism, which he himself so well refuted, and the sharp 
irony of his critics, and the spleen of his traducers, become 
curiosities of literature, and morbid preparations in the 
museum of some future historian of philosophy. 

The most elaborate satire of Fichte's Idealism was the 
" Clavis Fichtiana," by Jean Paul. He evidently under- 
stood him, and yet he did not do him justice, because the 
satire identifies Fichte with his Egoistic Idealism, which 
may be thrice demolished, without involving in the ruin 
Fichte's special and only worth. Thus, among other 
clever things, Jean Paul writes with German bluntness: 
" it struck me (said I, as I glanced slightly over my sys- 
tem, during a foot-bath, and gazed significantly at my toes, 
whose nails they were paring) that I am the All and Uni- 
verse; one cannot be more in the world, than the world 
itself, and God, and the spirit-world too. Only I ought not 
to have sat so long a Time (which is another work of mine) 
without concluding, that I am the natura naturans, and the 
Demiurgus and Agent of the universe. I am now like 
that beggar who, waking out of a drunken sleep, found 
himself all at once a king. What a Being, which, itself 
excepted, (for it is always becoming, and never is) makes 
every thing, my absolute All-breeding, foaling, yeaning, 
hatching, casting, whelping, bearing I ! " * And again, 

* " If I saw my oldest friend, I should only say, 1 = 1. If I saw Fichte, 



6 PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 

in a higher strain, but with still less justice in view of the 
fine moral eloquence of Fichte, Jean Paul writes : " all the 
enthusiasm he permits me is logical : all my Metaphysics, 
Chemistry, Technology, Nosology, Botany, Entomology, 
subsists only in the old maxim, know thyself. I am not 
only, as Bellarmin says, my own Redeemer, but also my 
own Devil, Death and Knout-master. The practical rea- 
son itself (that only sacred shew-bread for a hungry philo- 
sophical David) hardly sets me a going, since, after all, I 
can only benefit somewhat my I, and no one further. Love 
and admiration are void, for like St. Francis, I press to my 
soi disant breast nothing but a maiden rolled together of 
snow. Around me is a wide, petrified humanity : in the 
dark, unpeopled stillness, no love glows, no admiration, no 
prayer, no hope, no aim. I, so all alone, nowhere a single 
throb of life, nothing around me, and besides myself noth- 
ing but nothing, am only conscious of my lofty Un-con- 
sciousness ; within me the dumb, blind working Demo- 
gorgon is concealed, and I am it. So I emerge from 
eternity, so I proceed into eternity ! And who knows me 
now and hears my sorrow ? I. Who knows me and hears 
it to all eternity ? I." * 

Schiller also*, in his correspondence with Goethe, calls 
Fichte " the great I," and says : " To him, the world is 
only a ball which the I has thrown forth, and which it again 
catches in the act of reflexion ! Thus 'tis said he has 



I being the Castor and he the Pollux, and both of us only existing by an 
alternate immortality of projection, I should only indulge myself iu ut- 
tering, Soyons amis, Auguste." 

* After this, it is amusing to see Mad. de Stael, with her glib, Parisian 
goose-quill, also snatch a blow at the " Doctrine of Science." She says 
quite conclusively, " nature and love lose all their charm by this system ; 
for if the objects that we love are only the work of our ideas, we may 
regard man himself as the great Bachelor of the Universe." 



PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 7 

really declared his godhead, as we lately expected." And 
yet the pulse of Schiller's heart was deeply stirred by the 
u Nature of the Scholar," the " Destiny of Man," the "Ad- 
dresses to the German Nation," through all of which runs 
Fichte's idea of the moral order of the Universe, and the 
sacredness of being called upon to exist. After Fichte had 
dropped his unusual terminology, and had somewhat pop- 
ularized his system, he was accused of making himself felt 
and understood at the expense of his logic. Thus the third 
part of the " Destiny of Man," which is the most popular 
development of his idea, was said to contradict the first 
part, and either to destroy his system, or to gain therefrom 
an esoteric meaning. It may be, that in writing his lofty 
invocation to the Divine Will, which occurs in the third 
part, he virtually abandons his idealism. We are more 
inclined to consider the latter as explained by his highest 
moments and clearest statements. 

The charge of Atheism, seems to have arisen from his 
proposition, that the conception of personality subjects the 
Infinite Will to limitation. Any conception of the Deity 
which we may entertain, must necessarily be finite, even 
when it is a conception of His infinity. Our conception 
does not become less finite when we add the element of 
personality, even if we call Him an infinite Person. With 
the highest and most devout abstraction, we still only ap- 
proach the God of our own conceptions : and the men of 
the greatest genuine faith, have always been accused of 
Atheism, because they dared not erect a finite conception 
into a dogmatic statement with respect to the Infinite Na- 
ture. There has always been this feud between the phi- 
losophers and the theologians : the latter making God 
after man's image, the former declaring that the intellect 
can neither name nor represent Him. And all the while, 



8 PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 

the earnest men of both parties repose upon the same 
Infinite Will, and aspire to the same source of their com- 
mon life and thought. A downright Atheist would be, to 
speak rather paradoxically, a perfect God-send. The best 
thinkers of Germany absolved Fichte from this paltry 
charge, but nevertheless respectable fathers of families 
rather eschewed his society. But no man was ever more 
penetrated with the Divine Presence, or ever made loftier 
statements of that which, absolutely, must always be inef- 
fable. His speech becomes transfigured when he meets 
the theme, his words conquer when he tries to say that he 
can say nothing. 

It must be admitted, that Fichte was misunderstood, 
partly because he exaggerated his own positions. He con- 
ciliated no one, and disdained to make his wares marketa- 
ble. He threw out the truth which he had, in huge, rude 
masses, and whoever thought it was worth taking, was wel- 
come to all he could retain. He was the servant of truth, 
and never trifled nor blasphemed, for he saw the truth too 
clearly. But this very superiority rendered him sometimes 
daring in the form of his statements. His simplest meta- 
physical propositions were hirsute and shocking ; as he 
left the lecture room men looked to see whether or no he 
were a new avatar of the Enemy. Perhaps he secretly en- 
joyed the turmoil which his needless singularity created, 
and loved to aggravate the Philistines who sought to catch 
him in his talk. Yet much that was called arrogance was 
only positiveness of knowledge, and his blunt vanity was 
only sincerity of conviction. Still we may fairly censure 
him, because the earnest thinker is not only bound to re- 
ceive truth with reverence and self-denial, but to proclaim 
it in love. He must win men over to its worship. 

This excellent Memoir will properly establish Fichte 



PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 9 

among us. The English edition contains also a translation 
of one of his finest works, the " Nature of the Scholar." 
We look to see the success of this Memoir demand a re- 
publication of that also. It will be a seasonable word to 
our scholars, its lofty requisitions will deepen their earnest- 
ness, its merciless analysis will abolish trifling, its simple 
yet smiting appeals will cause them to venerate their voca- 
tion. We shall welcome Fichte because he is in earnest, 
and because he grapples with the meaning of life, learns 
it by heart, and makes it luminous. He sets every man 
to the most decisive work, and shows him how his deeds 
tell for God and advance the order of the Universe. Were 
his writings domesticated here, they would materially assist 
us in the solution of many of the impending questions 
which now appear above our horizon.* They would at 
least be welcome, because the words of a deep and power- 
ful thinker, increase the power and accuracy, and devel- 
ope the capacity, of thought. 

Watektown, March 1, 1846. 



* His " Critique of all Revelation," is an attempt to state the genuine 
grounds of Faith, the province of Miracle, &c. 



CONTENTS 



PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION 



MEMOIR. 



BIRTH AND EDUCATION 
LETTERS TO JOHANNA RAHN 
CRITIQUE OF ALL REVELATION 
DOCTRINE OF SCIENCE 
PROFESSORSHIP AT JENA . 
SUNDAY LECTURES 
CHARGE OF ATHEISM . 
NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR . 
OPPOSITION TO NAPOLEON . 
SICKNESS AND DEATH 



14 

27 

55 

81 

96 

105 

118 

140 

151 

154 



MEMOIR 



JOHANN GOTTLIEB PICHTE 



At the time of the great religious division, when 
Germany was torn by internal factions, and ravaged by 
foreign armies, — when for thirty years the torch of 
devastation never ceased to blaze, nor the groan of 
misery to ascend on high, — a skirmish took place near 
the village of Rammenau, in Upper Lusatia, between 
some Swedish troops and a party of the Catholic army. 
A subaltern officer who had followed the fortunes of 
Gustavus was left on the field severely wounded. The 
kind and simple-hearted villagers were eager to render 
him every aid which his situation required, and beneath 
the roof of one of them, a zealous Lutheran, he was 
tended until returning health enabled him either to re- 
join his companions in arms, or return to his native 
land. But the stranger had found an attraction stronger 
than that of war or home — he continued an inmate in 
the house of his protector, and became his son-in-law. 
The old man's other sons having fallen in the war, the 
soldier inherited his simple possessions, and founded 
a family whose generations flowed on in peaceful obscu- 
1 



14 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

rity, until its name was made illustrious by the subject 
of the following memoir. 

The grandfather of the philosopher inherited from 
his predecessor, along with the little patrimonial pos- 
session, a small trade in ribbons, the product of his 
own loom, which he disposed of to the inhabitants of 
the village and its vicinity. Desirous that his eldest 
son, Christian Fichte, should extend this business be- 
yond the limited sphere in which he practised it him- 
self, he sent him as apprentice to Johann Schurich, a 
manufacturer of linen and ribbons in the neighboring 
town of Pulsnitz, in order that he might there learn his 
trade more perfectly than he could do at home. The 
son conducted himself well during his apprenticeship, 
rose high in the esteem of his master, and was at last 
received into the house as an inmate. He there suc- 
ceeded in gaining the affections of Schurich's daughter. 
This attachment was for a long time kept secret, in 
deference to the pride of the maiden's father ; but his 
prejudices having been overcome, young Fichte brought 
home his bride to his native village, and with her dowry 
he built a house there, in which some of his descen- 
dants still follow the paternal occupation. 

Johann Gottlieb Fichte was their first child, 
and was born on the 19th of May, 1762. At his 
baptism, an aged relative of the family, who had come 
from a distance to be present at the ceremony, and who 
was revered by all men for his wisdom and piety, fore- 
told the future eminence of the child ; and as death 
soon after set his seal upon the lips which had uttered 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 15 

the prophecy, it became invested with all the sac red- 
ness of a deathbed prediction. Their faith in this 
announcement induced the parents to allow their first- 
born an unusual degree of liberty, and by thus affording 
room for the development of his nature, the prediction 
became in some measure the means of securing its own 
fulfilment. 

The boy soon displayed some characteristics of the 
future man. He seldom joined the other children in 
their games, but loved to wander forth in the fields, 
alone with his own thoughts. There he would stand 
for hours, his eyes fixed on the far distance, until he 
was roused from his trance and brought home by the 
shepherds, who knew and loved the solitary and medi- 
tative child. His first teacher was his own father, who, 
after the business of the day was over, instructed him 
in reading, and told him the story of his own journey- 
ings in Saxony and Franconia. He was an eager 
scholar, soon mastered his Bible and Catechism, and 
even read the morning and evening prayers in the fam- 
ily circle. When he was seven years of age, his 
father, as a reward for his industry, brought him from 
the neighboring town the story of Siegfried. He was 
soon so entirely rapt in this book, that he neglected his 
other lessons to indulge his fancy for it. This brought 
upon him a severe reproof ; and finding that this be- 
loved book stood between him and his duty, he with 
characteristic determination resolved to destroy it. He 
carried it to the brook which ran by his father's house, 
with the intention of throwing it into the water, but 
long he hesitated before accomplishing his first act of 



16 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

self-denial. At length he cast it into the stream. No 
sooner, however, did he see it carried away from him, 
than regret for his loss triumphed over his resolution, 
and he wept bitterly. His father discovered him, and 
learned the loss of the book, but without learning the 
reason of it. Angry at the supposed slight cast upon 
his present, he punished the boy with unwonted se- 
verity. As in his childhood, so also in his after life, 
did ignorance of his true motives often cause Fichte 
to be misunderstood and misrepresented. When this 
matter had been forgotten, his father bought him a sim- 
ilar book, but the boy would not accept of it, lest he 
should again be led into temptation. 

Young Fichte soon attracted the notice of the clergy- 
man of the village, who, perceiving his talents, resolved 
to promote their development, and if possible to obtain 
for him a scientific education. An opportunity of doing 
so soon presented itself. A guest of the Freiherr von 
Miltitz, a neighboring proprietor, was desirous of hear- 
ing a sermon from the pastor of Rammenau, who had 
acquired some reputation as a preacher, but had arrived 
too late in the evening to gratify his wishes. Lamenting 
his disappointment, he was told that there was a boy in 
the village whose extraordinary memory enabled bim 
to repeat faithfully any address which he had once 
heard. Little Gottlieb was sent for, and astonished 
the Freiherr and his guests by his minute recollection 
of the morning's discourse, and the earnestness with 
which he repeated it before them. The Freiherr 
determined to make further inquiries respecting this 
extraordinary child ; and the friendly pastor having 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 17 

found the opportunity he wished, persuaded him to 
undertake the charge of the boy's education. The 
consent of the parents having been with difficulty ob- 
tained — for they were reluctant to expose their son to 
the temptations of a noble house — young Fichte was 
consigned to the care of his new protector, who en- 
gaged to treat him as his own child. 

His first removal was to Siebeneichen, a seat on the 
Elbe, belonging to the Freiherr. The gloomy solem- 
nity of this place and its surrounding forests pressed 
heavily upon the inexperienced boy : he was seized 
with a deep melancholy, which threatened to injure 
his health. His kind foster-father prudently resolved 
to place him under the care of a clergyman in the 
neighboring village of Xiederau, who, himself without 
family, had a great love for children. Here Fichte 
spent the happiest years of his boyhood. He received 
the kindest attentions from his teacher, whose name he 
never mentioned in after years without the deepest and 
most grateful emotion. Here the foundation of his 
education was laid in a knowledge of the ancient lan- 
guages ; and so rapid was his progress, that his instructor 
soon found his own learning insufficient for the further 
superintendence of his pupil's studies. In his twelfth 
year he was sent by the Freiherr von Miltitz first to the 
town school of Meissen, and soon afterwards to the 
public school of Pforta, near Raumburg. 

The school at Pforta retained many traces of its 

monkish origin : the teachers and pupils lived in cells, 

and the boys were allowed to leave the interior only 

once a week, and that under inspection, to visit a par- 

1* 



18 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

ticular play-ground in the neighborhood. The stiffest 
formality pervaded the economy of this establishment, 
and every indication of freewill was carefully sup- 
pressed. The living spirit of knowledge was unrecog- 
nised in its antiquated routine, and the generous desire 
of excellence was excluded by the petty artifices of 
jealousy. Instead of the free communication, kind 
advice, and personal example of a home, secrecy, dis- 
trust, and deceit were the prevalent characteristics of 
the school. 

When he was scarcely thirteen years of age, Fichte 
entered this seminary ; and from this time forth he was 
alone in the world, trusting to his own strength and 
guidance. So soon was he called upon to exercise 
that powerful and clear-sighted independence for which 
he was afterwards so much distinguished. 

The strange world which he now entered, the gloom 
and confinement which he encountered, made a deep 
impression on his mind. His sadness and tears exposed 
him to the mockery of his school-fellows ; — he wanted 
prudence to disregard them, and courage to complain 
to a teacher. He determined to run away. Shame 
and the fear of being sent back to Pforta would pre- 
vent him from returning to his protector, the Freiherr ; 
he therefore conceived the idea of seeking some dis- 
tant island, where, like Robinson, he might lead a life 
of perfect freedom. But he would not steal away — 
he would make it evident that necessity drove him to 
the course he took. He warned his senior, who op- 
pressed him severely, that he would no longer suffer 
such treatment, and that if it were not amended he 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 19 

should leave the school. His threat was of course 
received with laughter and contempt, and the boy now 
thought he might quit the place with honor. The 
opportunity was soon found, and he took the way to 
Raumburg. On the road he remembered the maxim 
of his old friend, the pastor, that every undertaking 
should be begun with a prayer for divine aid. He sunk 
to his knees on a rising ground. During prayer he 
called to mind his parents, their care for him, the grief 
which his sudden disappearance would cause them. 
"Never to see them again ! " — this thought was too 
much for him : his joy and his courage were already 
gone. He determined to return, and confess his fault. 
On his way back he mot those who had been sent after 
him. When taken before the Rector, he admitted that 
it had been his intention to run away, but at the same 
time recounted so ingenuously the motives which had 
induced him to take this step, that the Rector not only 
forgave his fault, but resolved to take him under his 
special protection. He obtained another senior, who 
soon gained his affections, and was afterwards his com- 
panion and friend at the University. 

From this time, Fichte's residence at Pforta became 
gradually more agreeable to him. He entered zeal- 
ously upon his studies, and found in them occupation, 
interest, and spiritual nourishment. The defects of his 
previous education were supplied by industry, and he 
soon found himself comfortable and happy. Among 
those older scholars with whom Fichte now associated, 
a spirit of independence sprang up — they labored as- 
siduously to set themselves free from the influence of 



20 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

their teachers, particularly of those who held the most 
antiquated and worn-out notions. The praise or blame 
of these masters was little valued among them, if they 
could secure the esteem of each other. Books imbued 
with the new spirit of free inquiry were secretly ob- 
tained, and in spite of the strictest prohibitions, great part 
of the night was spent in their perusal. The works of 
Wieland, Lessing, and Goethe w r ere positively for- 
bidden, yet they found their way within the walls, and 
were eagerly studied. Lessing's controversy with Goze 
made a deep impression upon Fichte : each successive 
number of the Jlnti-Goze he almost committed to 
memory. A demand for unfettered inquiry was awak- 
ened within him : he understood for the first time the 
meaning of scientific knowledge, and with this knowl- 
edge he acquired a presentiment of a new spiritual life. 
Lessing became to him an object of such reverence, 
that he determined to devote his first days of freedom 
to seek a personal interview with his mental liberator. 
But this plan was frustrated by want of money ; and 
w 7 hen afterwards it might have been carried into execu- 
tion, an untimely death had deprived Germany of her 
boldest thinker. 

In 1780, Fichte, then eighteen years of age, entered 
the University of Jena. He joined the theological 
faculty, not so much, probably, by his own choice, as 
by desire of his parents and protector. By his interest 
in other branches of science, and by the marked direc- 
tion of his mind to clearness and certainty in his know- 
ledge, it soon became evident that he w T ould not accept 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 21 

the shortest and easiest way to the completion of his 
studies. Nothing definite is known of the early pro- 
gress of his mind, but his later productions leave no 
doubt of its general tendency. He must soon have 
been struck with the disparity between the form of 
theology as it was then taught, and the wants of a 
philosophic intellect. Fichte could only be satisfied 
with a consistent theory, carried out from one funda- 
mental principle through all its ramifications. We may 
conjecture what doubts and obscurities dogmatic the- 
ology must have presented to his mind at this time, 
when we recollect that, even at an after period of his 
life, he still interested himself in the task of reconciling 
faith with knowledge — revelation with science. He 
attended a course of Dogmatics by C. F. Pezold, at 
Leipzic, to which place he had removed from Jena ; 
and in the attempt to attain a clear comprehension of 
the theological doctrines of the attributes of God, the 
creation, the freedom of the will, &c, he encountered 
unexpected difficulties, which led him into a wider cir- 
cle of inquiry, and finally drove him to abandon the 
theological for the philosophical point of view. Thus 
his philosophical speculations had their origin in an 
attempt to create a tenable system of dogmatics, and 
to obtain light on the higher questions of theology. 

Some hints of the early direction of his philosophical 
studies may be gathered from his letters written about 
this time. The question which chiefly engaged his 
attention seems to have been that of Liberty and Ne- 
cessity. Rejecting the doctrine of free-will considered 
as absolute indifferent self-determination, he adopted 



22 



MEMOIR OF F1CHTE. 



the view, which, to distinguish it from fatalism , may be 
named determinism. Every complete and consistent 
philosophy contains a deterministic side, for the thought 
of an all-directing Unity is the beginning and end of 
profound investigation. Fatalism sees in this highest 
unity a dark and mysterious Nemesis — an unconscious 
mechanical necessity ; determinism, the highest dispos- 
ing reason, the infinite Spirit and God, to whom the 
determination of each living being is not only to be 
referred, but in whom alone it becomes clear and intel- 
ligible. 

Fichte seems to have adopted this view apart from 
any foreign iufluence ; — for he was as yet unacquainted 
with Spinoza, its most consistent expounder, whom he 
had only heard mentioned as an abstruse atheist. He 
communicated his opinions to a Saxon preacher, who 
had the reputation of distinguished philosophical attain- 
ments, and was well versed in the Wolffian metaphy- 
sics. He was informed that he had adopted Spinozism, 
and it was through Wolff's refutation that he first 
became acquinted with that profound and systematic 
thinker. The study of Spinoza's Ethics made a pow- 
erful impression upon him, and confirmed him in the 
opinions he had adopted. But in after years, prolong- 
ed investigation left him dissatisfied with these views ; 
— the indestructible feeling of internal independence 
and freedom, rendered doubly powerful by the energy 
of his own character, could neither be removed, nor 
explained on an exclusively deterministic theory, which 
must ultimately have come into collision with his strong- 
est mental bias — to look upon freedom — self-deter- 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 23 

mination — as the only true and real being. This is 
the ground-principle of the Wissenchaftslehre, which in 
this respect stands opposed to the doctrine of Spinoza, 
although a general harmony does notwithstanding reign 
throughout the details of these two great modern sys- 
tems of spiritualism. Thus has every great theory its 
foundation in the individual character, and is indeed 
only the scientific expression of the spiritual life of its 
originator. 

Amid these lofty speculations, poverty, the scholar's 
bride, knocked at his door, and roused him to that 
struggle with the world, in which so many purchase 
ease with degradation, but in which men such as he 
find strength and confidence and triumph. His gener- 
ous benefactor was now dead, and he was thrown on 
bis own resources. From 1784 to 1788 he earned a 
precarious livelihood by acting as tutor in various 
houses in Saxony. His studies were desultory and 
interrupted ; he had not even the means of procuring 
books ; the strength which should have been devoted 
to his own mental cultivation, was wasted in obtaining 
a scanty subsistence. But amid all his privations his 
courage never deserted him, nor the inflexible determi- 
nation, which was not so much an act of his will as a 
law of his nature, — to pursue truth for her own sake 
and at all hazards. " It is our business," says he on 
another occasion, "it is our business to be true to our- 
selves : the consequence is altogether in the hands of 
providence." His favorite plan of life at this period, 
and for a long time afterwards, was to become a village 
pastor in Saxony, and amid the leisure which he should 



24 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

find in that occupation, to prosecute, without disturb- 
ance, his own mental culture. But his theological 
studies were not completed, and he was without the 
means of continuing them. In 1787 he addressed a 
letter to the President of the Consistory, requesting to 
be allowed a share of the support which many poor 
students enjoy at the Saxon Universities, until the fol- 
lowing Easter, when he should be ready to present 
himself before the Consistory for examination. u I 
have never," he says, u partaken in the public pro- 
vision for students, nor have I enjoyed an allowance of 
any kind, although my poverty can be clearly proved. 
Is it not possible then, to allow me a maintenance suf- 
ficient for this short time, that I may be enabled to 

devote myself to theology until Easter ! 

Without this, my residence at Leipzic is of no avail to 
me, for I am compelled to give all my time to hetero- 
geneous pursuits, in order that I may even live. .... 
Should it please you to grant my request, I assure you 
by all that I hold sacred, that I will devote myself en- 
tirely to this object, that I will consecrate my life to 
the Fatherland which supported me at school, and 
which since then has only become dearer to me, and 
that I will come before the High Consistory, prepared 
for my examination, and submit my future destiny to 
its wisdom." No notice was taken of his request — 
partly, it may be conjectured, on account of doubts 
which were entertained of his orthodoxy — a reason 
which closed the gates of preferment against his friend 
Weisshuhn and many others. 

In May, 1788, every prospect had closed around 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 25 

him, and every honorable means of advancement seem- 
ed to be exhausted. The present was utterly barren, 
and there was no hope in the future. It is needful 
that natures like his should be nurtured in adversity, 
that they may discover their own strength ; prosperity 
might lull into an inglorious slumber the energies for 
whose appearance the world is waiting. He would not 
disclose his helpless situation to any of his well-wishers, 
but the proud consciousness of his own worth enabled 
him, amid unmerited sufferings, to oppose the bold 
front of human dignity against the pressure of opposing 
circumstances. 

It was the eve of his birthday. With unavailing 
anxiety he again pondered all his projects, and found 
all alike hopeless. The world had cast him out, — 
his country refused him food, — he thought his last 
birthday was at hand ; but he was determined that his 
honor — all that he could now call his own, should 
remain unsullied. Full of bitter thoughts, he returned 
to his solitary lodging. He found a letter awaiting 
him ; it was from his friend the tax-collector Weisse, 
requesting him to come immediately to his house. He 
there placed in Fichte's hands an offer of a tutorship 
in a private family in Zurich. The sudden revulsion 
of feeling in the young man could not be concealed, 
and led to an explanation of his circumstances. The 
offer was at once accepted, and aided by his kind friend 
in the necessary arrangements, he set out for Switzer- 
land in August, 1788. His scanty means compelled 
him to travel on foot, but his heart was light, and the 
fresh hopes of youth shone brightly on his path. Dis- 
2 



26 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

appointment, privation, and bondage, had been his 
close companions, but these were now left behind him, 
and he was to find an asylum in Liberty's own moun- 
tain-home — the land which Tell had consecrated to 
all future ages as the sacred abode of Truth and Free- 
dom. 

He arrived at Zurich on the 1st of September, and 
immediately entered upon his office. His duties occu- 
pied him the greater part of the day, but he also engag- 
ed in some minor literary pursuits. His philosophical 
studies were in the meantime laid aside. At the re- 
quest of a friend who had sketched out the plan of a 
scriptural epos, he wrote an essay on this form of 
poetry, with special reference to Klopstock's Messias. 
He also translated some of the odes of Horace, and 
the whole of Sallust, with an introduction on the style 
and character of this author. He preached occasion- 
ally in Zurich, at Flaach, and at several other places in 
the neighborhood, with distinguished success. He 
likewise drew out a plan for the establishment of a 
School of Oratory in Zurich, which, however, w T as never 
realized. 

In the circle of his friends at Zurich were Lavater, 
Steinbruchel, Hottinger, and particularly the Canons 
Tobler and Pfennigar. In his letters he speaks also of 
Achelis, a candidate of theology from Bremen, and 
Escher, a young poet, as his intimate friends : — the 
latter died soon after Fichte's departure from Swit- 
zerland. 

But of all the friendships which he formed here, the 
most important in its influence upon his future life was 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. «f 

that of Rahn, whose house was in a manner the centre 
of the society of Zurich. Rahn was brother-in-law to 
Klopstock, with whom he had formed a strong friend- 
ship during Klopstock's visit to Switzerland in 1750, 
and with whose eldest sister Johanna he was afterwards 
united. From this marriage with Klopstock's sister, 
sprang, besides other children, their eldest daughter 
Johanna Maria, who became Fichte's wife. Her 
mother dying while she was yet young, she devoted 
herself entirely to her father, and to his comfort sacri- 
ficed worldly show and many proffered alliances. The 
foundation of her character was deep religious feeling, 
and an unusual strength and faithfulness of affection. 
As her family occupied a much higher station in point 
of worldly importance than any to which Fichte could 
reasonably aspire, her engagement with him was the 
result of disinterested attachment alone. Fichte's love 
was worthy of the noble-minded woman who had called 
it forth. It was the devotion of his whole nature — 
enthusiastic like his love for his country, dignified like 
his love of knowledge, but softened by the deepest 
tenderness of an earnest and passionate soul. But on 
this subject he must speak for himself. The following 
are extracts from letters addressed to Johanna Rahn, 
while he resided at Zurich, or during short occasional 
absences. It is necessary to premise that the termina- 
tion of his engagement, at Easter, 1790, led to the 
departure from Zurich which is alluded to in some of 
these passages. Fichte, tired of the occupation of a 
a tutor, was desirous of obtaining a situation of a higher 



28 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



nature, and Rahn, through his connections in Denmark, 
endeavored to promote his views. 

u I hasten to answer your questions — c Whether my 
friendship for you has not arisen from the want of other 
female society ? ' I think I can answer this question 
decidedly. I have been acquainted with many women, 
and held many different relations with them. I believe 
I have experienced, if not all the different degrees, yet 
all the different ki?ids, of feeling towards your sex, but 
I have never felt towards any as I feel towards you. 
No one else has called forth this perfect confidence, with- 
out the remotest suspicion of any dissimulation on your 
part, or the least desire to conceal anything from you 
on mine, — this wish to be wholly known to you even 
as I am, — this attachment, in which difference of 
sex has not the remotest perceptible influence (for far- 
ther can no mortal know his own heart) , — this true 
esteem for your spiritual nature, and acquiescence in 
whatever you resolve upon. Judge, then, whether it 
is for want of other female society that you have made 
an impression upon me which no one else has done, 
and taught me a new mode of feeling. ' Whether I 
will forget you when distant ? ' Does man forget a 
new mode of being and its cause ? " 

" The warm sympathy which appears in all these 
inquiries, the delightful kindness you have shown me on 
all occasions, the rapture which I feel when I know that 
I am not indifferent to such a person, — these, dearest, 
deserve that I should say nothing to you which is pro- 
faned by flattery, and that he whom you consider worthy 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE.. 29 

of your friendship should not debase himself by a false 
modesty. Your own fair, open soul deserves that I 
should never seem to doubt its pure expression, and 
hence I promise, on my side too, perfect openness." 

11 ' Whether there can be love without esteem ? ' Oh 
yes, — thou dear, pure one ! Love is of many kinds. 
Rousseau proves that by his reasoning, and still better 
by his example. ' La pauvre Maman ' and ( Madame 
N ' love in very different fashions. But I be- 
lieve there are many kinds of love which do not appear 
in Rousseau's life. You are very right in saying that no 
true and enduring love can exist without cordial esteem ; 
that every other draws regret after it, and is unworthy 
of any noble human soul. 

" One word about pietism. Pietists place religion 
mostly in externals ; in acts of worship performed me- 
chanically, without aim, as bond-service to God ; in 
orthodoxy of opinion, &c &c. ; and they have this 
among other characteristic marks, that they give them- 
selves more solicitude about others' piety than their own. 
It is not right to hate these men, — we should hate no one, 
— but to me they are very contemptible, for their char- 
acter implies the most deplorable emptiness of the head, 
and the most sorrowful perversion of the heart. Such 
my dear friend can never be ; she cannot become such, 
even were it possible — which it is not — that her char- 
acter were perverted ; she can never become such, her 
nature has too much reality in it. Your trust in Provi- 
dence, your anticipations of a future life, are wise and 
Christian. I hope, if I may venture to speak of my- 



30 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

self, that no one will take me to be a pietist or stiff 
formalist, but I know no feelings more thoroughly inter- 
woven with my soul than these are." 

•f£ ^P ^ TT %? ^ 

"I am once more within these walls, which are 
only dear to me because they enclose you ; and when 
again left to myself, to my solitude, to my own thoughts, 
my soul flies directly to your presence. How is this ? 
It is but three days since I have seen you, and I must 
often be absent from you for a longer period than that. 
Distance is but distance, and I am equally separated 
from you in Flaach or in Zurich — But how comes it 
that this absence has seemed to me longer than usual, 
that my heart longs more earnestly to be with you, that 
I imagine I have not seen you for a week ? Have I 
philosophized falsely of late about distance ? Oh that 
our feelings must still contradict the firmest conclusions 

of our reason ! " " You know 

doubtless that my peace has been broken by intelligence 
of the death of a man whom I prized and loved, whose 
esteem was one of the sweetest enjoyments which Zurich 
has afforded me, and whose friendship I would still 
seek to deserve ; and you would weep with me if you 
knew how dear this man was to me." 

•?P *7? "A* *7v' ■?? 'A? 

M Your offer of Friday has touched me deeply ; it 
has convinced me yet more strongly, if that were pos- 
sible, of your worth. Not because you are willing, for 
my sake, to deprive yourself of something which may 
be to you a trifle, as you say it is — a thousand others 
could do that — but that, although you must have re- 



MEMOIR OF F1CHTE. 31 

marked something of my way of thinking ( c pride ' the 
world calls it), you should yet have made that offer so 
naturally and openly, as if your whole heart had told 
you that I could not misunderstand you ; that although I 
had never accepted aught from any man on earth, yet 
that I would accept it from you ; that we were too 
closely united to have different opinions about such 
things as these. Dearest, you have given me a proof 
of your confidence, your kindness, your — (dare I 
write it ?) — love, than which there could be no greater. 
Were I not now wholly yours I should be a monster, 
without head or heart — without any title to happiness. 

u But in order to show myself to you in a just light, 
you have here my true thoughts and feelings upon this 
matter, as I read them myself in my own breast. 

" At first — I confess it with deep shame — at first 
it roused my pride. Fool that I was, I thought for a 
moment — not longer, that you had misunderstood what 
I wrote to you lately. Yet even in this moment I was 
more grieved than hurt : the blow came from your hand. 
Instantly, however, my better nature awoke ; I felt the 
whole worth of your heart, and I was deeply moved. 
Had not your father come at this moment, I could not 
have mastered my emotions : only shame for having for 
a moment undervalued you and myself kept them within 
bounds. 

" Yet I cannot accept it : — not that your gift would 
disgrace me, or could disgrace me. A gift out of mere 
compassion for my poverty I could abhor, and even hate 
the giver : — this is perhaps the most neglected part of 
my character. But the gift of friendship, of a friend- 



32 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

ship which, like yours, rests upon cordial esteem, can- 
not proceed from compassion, and is an honor instead 
of a dishonor. But, in truth, I need it not. I have 
indeed no money by me at present, but I have no unusu- 
al disbursements to make, and I shall have enough to 
meet my very small regular expenses till my departure. 
I seldom come into difficulties when I have no money, 
— I believe Providence watches over me. 1 have ex- 
amples of this which I might term singular, did I not 
recognize in them the hand of Providence, which con- 
descends even to our meanest wants. 

u Upon the whole, gold appears to me a very insig- 
nificant commodity. I believe that a man with any in- 
tellect may always provide for his wants ; and for more 
than this, gold is useless ; — hence I have always de- 
spised it. Unhappily it is here bound up with a part of 
the respect which our fellow-men entertain for us, and 
this has never been a matter of indifference to me. 
Perhaps I may by and by free myself from this wicked- 
ness also : it does not contribute to our peace. 

" On account of this contempt of money, I have for 
four years never accepted a farthing from my parents, 
because I have seven sisters, who are all young and in 
part uneducated, and because I have a father who, were 
I to allow it, would in his kindness bestow upon me that 
which is the right of his other children. I have not 
accepted even presents from them upon any pretence ; 
and since then, I have maintained myself very well, and 
stand more anion aise than before towards my parents, 
and particularly towards my too kind father. 

u However, I promise you — (how happy do I feel, 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 33 

dear, noble friend, to be permitted to speak thus with 
you) — I promise you, that if I should fall into any 
pecuniary embarrassments (as there is no likelihood that 
I shall, with my present mode of thinking and my at- 
tendant fortune), you shall be the first person to whom 
I shall apply — to whom I shall have applied since the 
time I declined assistance from my parents. It is 
worthy of your kind heart to receive this promise, and 
it is not unworthy of me to give it." 

* *7t* *7p -7? "7? ^T 

e< Could anything indemnify me for the loss of some 
hours of your society, I should be indemnified. I have 
received the most touching proofs of the attachment of 
the good old widow, whom I have only seen for the 
third time, and of her gratitude for a few courtesies 
which .were to me nothing — absolutely nothing, had 
they not cost me two days' absence from you. She 
wept when I took my leave, though I had allowed her 
to expect that she should see me again before my de- 
parture. I desire to lay aside all vanities ; — with 
some, the desire for literary fame, &c, I have in a cer- 
tain degree succeeded ; but the desire to be beloved — 
beloved by simple true hearts — is no vanity, and I will 
not lay it aside . 

" What a wholly new, joyful, bright existence I have 
had since I became sure of being yours ! how happy I 
am that so noble a soul bestows its sympathy upon me, 
and such sympathy ! — this I can never express. Would 
that I could, that I might be able to thank you ! . . . . 

" My departure, dearest, draws near, and you have 
discovered the secret of making the day which formerly 



34 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



seemed to me a day of deliverance, the bitterest in my 
life. I shall not tell you whether the day is settled or 
not. If you do not absolutely command it, you shall 
not know of it. Leave-taking is bitter, very bitter, and 
even its announcement has always something painful in 
it. But one of us — and I shall be that one — must 
bear the consciousness that thenceforth (but only for a 
time, if God does not require the life of one of us) we 
see each other no more. Unless you absolutely require 
it, you shall not know when I am with you for the last 
time." 

" I know the business of the scholar ; I have no new 
discoveries to make about it. I have very little fitness 
for being a scholar a metier ; I must not only think, I 
must act : least of all can I think about trifles ; and 
hence it is not exactly my business to become a Swiss 

professor — that is, a schoolman Now 

I think that the way which you propose cannot have the 
effect you expect from it. My essays cannot create 
what is called a ' sensation ; ' this is not in them nor in 
me. Many would not even understand their contents ; 
those who did understand them, would, I believe, con- 
sider me as a useful man, but comme ily en a beaucoup. 
It is quite another thing when one takes an interest in 
the author, and knows him. 

"If you should be able to excite such an interest 
among your relatives, then indeed something more might 
be expected. But the matter does not seem pressing. 
Before all things there must be a professorship vacant 
at Bern, and indeed such a one as I could undertake. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 35 

Then it would be difficult, during my stay here, to make 
a copy of my essays. And perhaps I shall write some- 
thing better afterwards, or perhaps I shall hit upon 
some arrangement in Leipzic respecting these essays, 
which can easily be made known in Bern. At all 
events, you shall know, and every good man who takes 
any interest in me shall always know where I am. At 
the same time I entreat of you, — although I know your 
good will towards me does not need the request, — both 
now and after my departure, to omit no opportunity 
which presents itself of doing me any service, and to 
inform me of it. I believe in a Providence, and I watch 
its signs." 

" So you desire this bitter leave-taking ? Be it so, 
but under one condition : I must bid you farewell alone. 
In the presence of any other, even of your excellent 
father, I should suffer from the reserve of which I com- 
plain so much. I depart, since it must be told, to-mor- 
row eight-days. This day week I see you for the last 
time, for I set out very early on Sunday. Try to 
arrange that I may see you alone : how it is to be ar- 
ranged I know not, but I would far rather take no leave 
of you at all, than take a cold formal one. 

" I thank you heartily for your noble letter of yester- 
day, particularly because your narrative confirms me so 
strongly in a much cherished principle. God cares for 

us — He will forsake no honorable man." 

# ^p * y$ ^ %? 

" And so be convinced that nothing can turn my 
thoughts from you. The reasons you have long known. 



36 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

You know my heart ; you know yourself ; you know 
that I know you : can you then doubt that I have found 
the only female soul which I can value, honor, and 
love ? — that I have nothing more to seek from the sex, 

— that I can find nothing more that is mine ? " 

Towards the close of March, 1790, Fichte left Zurich 
on his return to his native land, with some letters of 
recommendation to the Courts of Wirtemberg and 
Weimar. He was once more thrown upon the world ; 

— his outward prospects as uncertain as when he enter- 
ed Switzerland two years before. Poverty again com- 
pelled him to travel for the most part on foot, but, as 
before, the toil of his journey was lightened by a high 
sense of honor, an inflexible courage, an unwavering 
faith ; and to these was now added a sweeter guide — 
a star of milder radiance, which threw a soft but steady 
light upon the wanderer's way, and pointed him to a 
happy though distant place of rest. His love was no 
fleeting passion, no maudlin sensibility, but united itself 
with his philosophy and his religion in one ever-flowing 
fountain of spiritual power. The world might turn 
coldly away from him, for it knew him not ; but he did 
not stoop to its meanness, because he did not seek its 
rewards. He had one object before him — the develop- 
ment of his own nature ; and there was one who knew 
him, whose thoughts were with him from afar, whose 
sympathies were all his own. His labors might be ar- 
duous, but they could not now be in vain, for although 
the destiny of his being did not as yet lie before him in 
perfect theoretical clearness, yet his integrity of purpose 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 37 

and purity of feeling unconsciously preserved him from 
error, while the energy of his will bore him upward and 
onward over the petty obstructions of life. 

He arrived at Stuttgard in the beginning of April, but 
not finding his recommendations to the Wirtemberg 
Court of much advantage, he left it after a short stay. 
On his way to Saxony he visited Weimar. He did not 
see Herder, who was ill, nor Goethe, who was absent 
on his Italian tour, nor Schiller, who was at this time 
commencing his labors as Professor of History at Jena. 
He returned to Leipzic about the middle of May, his 
small stock of money exhausted by the expenses of his 
journey ; and was kindly received by his friend Weisse, 
through whose recommendation he had obtained the 
appointment at Zurich. Discovering no prospect of 
obtaining any preceptorship of a superior kind, he en- 
gaged in literary occupations in order to procure a liveli- 
hood. He conceived the plan of a monthly literary 
journal, the principal objects of which should be to 
expose the dangerous tendencies of the prevalent liter- 
ature of the day, to show the mutual influence of correct 
taste and pure morality, and to direct its readers to the 
best authors, both of past and present times. But such 
an undertaking was too much opposed to the interests 
of the booksellers to find favor in their eyes. " I have," 
he says, " spoken to well-disposed people on this mat- 
ter, to Weisse and Palmer ; they all admit that it is a 
good and useful idea, and indeed a want of the age, but 
they all tell me that I shall find no publisher. I have 
therefore, out of sorrow, communicated my plan to no 
bookseller, and I must now write — not pernicious 
3 



38 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



writings — that I will never do, but something that is 
neither good nor bad, in order to earn a little money. I 
am now engaged on a tragedy, a business which of all 
possible occupations least belongs to me, and of which 
I shall certainly make nothing ; and upon novels, small 
romantic stories — a kind of reading which is good for 
nothing but to kill time ; this, however, it seems, is what 
the booksellers will take and pay for." 

So far as his outward existence was concerned, 
this residence at Leipzic was a period of great uncer- 
tainty and trouble. He could obtain no settled occu- 
pation, but was driven from one expedient to another to 
procure the means of subsistence. At one time he 
gives u a lesson in Greek to a young man between 11 
and 12 o'clock," and spends the rest of the day in 
study and starvation. His tragedy and novel writing 
would not last long, nor be very tolerable while it did 
last. In August he writes — cc BernstorfT must have re- 
ceived my letter and essay ; I gave it into Herr Bonn's 
own hands, and he promised to take care of it ; yet I 
have no answer. A lady at Weimar had a plan to ob- 
tain for me a good situation ; it must have failed, for I 
have not heard from her for two months. Of other 
prospects which I thought almost certain, I shall be 
silent. As for authorship, I have been able to do little 
or nothing, for I am so distracted and tossed about by 
constant schemes and undertakings, that I have had 

few quiet days In short, Providence 

either has something else in store for me, and hence 
will give me nothing to do here, as indeed has been the 
case ; or intends by these troubles to exercise and in- 
vigorate me still further. I have lost almost everything, 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 39 

except my courage." Again we hear of a distant pros- 
pect of going to Vienna to prosecute his literary schemes, 
and thus of being nearer Zurich — nay, when on his 
way, of even visiting it. And then again — tc This week 
seems to be a critical time with me ; — all my prospects, 
even the last, have vanished." But his strength did 
not fail him ; alone and unfriended, he shrank not from 
the bitter trial. Adversity might roll her billows over 
his head, but her rage was spent in vain against a soul 
which she could bend to no unworthy deed. 

And yet he was not alone. A fair and gentle spirit 
was ever by his side, whispering to him of peace, 
and happiness, and love. " In the twilight," he says, 
" before I light my lamp, I dream myself back to thee, 
sit by thy side, chat with thee, and ask whether I am 
still dear to thee ; — ask indeed, but not from doubt — 
I know before-hand that thou wilt answer, yes. I am 
always with thee on Saturdays. I cannot give up those 
Saturday meetings. I think I am still in Zurich, take 
my hat and stick and will come to thee ; and then I re 
member, and fret at fortune, and laugh at myself." 
Amid the desolation of his outward prospects, the cur- 
rent of his affections seems to have flowed only more 
strongly and fully. In them he found a refuge from 
unworthy thoughts, a strong support in the conflict with 
misery and want. As the Alpine plant strikes its roots 
more firmly in barren and rocky places, so did his love 
cling more closely round his soul, when every other joy 
had died and withered there. 

" The wretched are the faithful : 'tis their fate 
To have all feeling, save the one, decay, 
And every passion into one dilate." 



40 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

" Thou dear angel-soul," he writes, tc do ihou help 
me, do thou keep me from falling ! And so thou dost. 
What sorrow can grieve, what distress can discourage 
me, so long as I possess the firm assurance that I have 
the sympathy of the best and noblest of women, that 
she looks upon her destiny as inseparably bound up in 
mine ; that our hearts are one ? Providence has given 
me thy heart, and I want nothing more. Mine is thine 
for ever." 

Of a project for engaging him in the ministry, he thus 
writes — "I know my opinions. I am neither of the 
Lutheran nor Reformed Church, but of the Christian ; 
and were I compelled to choose, I should (since no 
purely Christian community now exists) attach myself 
to that community in which there is most freedom of 
thought and charity of life ; and that is not the Luthe- 
ran, I think I have given up these 

hopes in my fatherland entirely. There is indeed a 
degree of enlightenment and rational religious knowl- 
edge existing among the younger clergy of the present 
day, which is not to be found to the same extent in any 
other country of Europe. But this is crushed by a 
worse than Spanish inquisition, under which they must 
cringe and dissemble, partly because they are deficient 
in ability, partly because in consequence of the number 
of clergy in our land their services can be spared, while 
they cannot cannot sacrifice their employment. Hence 
arises a slavish, crouching, hypocritical spirit. A rev- 
olution is indeed impending : but when ? and how ? 
In short, I will be no preacher in Saxony." 

The only record of his religious opinions at this time 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 41 

which is preserved, is a remarkable fragment, entitled 
11 Aphorisms on Religion and Deism." The object 
of this essay was to set at rest the much-vexed ques- 
tions between Philosophy and Christianity, by strictly 
defining the respective provinces of each ; by distin- 
guishing between the objective reality which reason 
demands of philosophy, and the incarnate form of truth 
which religion offers to the feelings and sympathies of 
men. In the adaptation of Christianity to the wants of 
the sinner, in its appeal to the heart rather than to the 
understanding, he finds the explanation of its nature 
and purposes : " Those who are whole need not the 
physician, but those who are sick." u I am come not 
to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." This 
fragment, by its distinct recognition of the radical dif- 
ference between feeling and knowledge, and the conse- 
quent vanity of any attempt to decide between the 
different aspects which the great questions of human 
destiny assume before the cognitive and sensitive fac- 
ulties, may be looked upon as the stepping-stone to 
that important revolution in Fichte's mental world, 
to which the attention of the reader must now be di- 
rected. 

The Critical or Kantean Philosophy was at this 
time the great topic of discussion in the higher circles 
of Germany. Virulently assailed by the defenders of 
the existing systems, with Herder at their head, it was 
as eagerly supported by a crowd of followers, who 
looked upon Kant with an almost fanatical veneration. 
Fichte's attention was turned to it quite accidentally. 
Some increased success in teaching, during the winter 
3* 



42 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



of 1790, rendered his outward circumstances more 
comfortable than before, and left his mind more at 
liberty to engage in serious study. He plunged with 
enthusiasm into the new philosophy. 

The system of religious necessarianism before al- 
luded to, which frequently shows itself in his letters, 
was by no means in harmony with the natural bent of 
his character. His energy of will and restless spirit of 
enterprise assorted ill with a theory in which he was 
compelled to regard himself as a passive instrument in 
the hands of a higher power. This inconsistency 
must have often suggested itself to him before be met 
with its remedy ; he must have frequently felt, that the 
theory which satisfied his understanding stood in oppo- 
sition to his feelings. He could not be contented with 
any superficial or partial reconcilement of this opposi- 
tion. But he was now introduced to a system in which 
his difficulties disappeared ; in which, by a rigid ex- 
amination of the cognitive faculty, the boundaries of 
human knowledge were accurately defined, and within 
those boundaries its legitimacy successfully vindicated 
against skepticism on the one hand, and blind credulity 
on the other ; in which the facts of man's moral nature 
furnished an indestructible foundation for a system of 
ethics where duty was neither resolved into self-interest, 
nor degraded into the slavery of superstition, but recog- 
nised by free-will as the absolute law of its being, in 
the strength of which it was to front the necessity of 
nature, break down every obstruction that barred its 
way, and rise at last, unaided, to the sublime conscious- 
ness of an independent, and therefore eternal, existence. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



43 



Such a theory was well calculated to rouse Fichte ? s 
enthusiasm, and engage all his powers. The light 
which he had been unconsciously seeking now burst 
upon his sight, — every doubt vanished before it, and 
the purpose of his being lay clear and distinct before 
him. The world, and man's life in it, acquired a new 
significance, every faculty a clearer vision, every power 
a fresher energy. But he must speak for himself: - — 

£o gktjcifs at Bremen. 

" The last four or five months which I have passed 
in Leipzic have been the happiest period of my life ; 
and what is most satisfactory about it is, that I have to 
thank no man for the smallest ingredient in its plea- 
sures. You know that before leaving Zurich I became 
somewhat sickly : either it was partly imagination, or 
the cookery did not agree with me. Since my de- 
parture from Zurich I have been health itself, and I 
know how to p*ize this blessing. The circumstances 
of my stay in Zurich, and still more of my travels, had 
strained my fancy to an unnatural height. When I 
came to Leipzic, my brain swarmed with great plans. 
All were wrecked ; and of so many soap-bubbles there 
now remains not even the light froth which composed 
them. This disturbed my peace of mind a little, and 
it was half in despair that I joined a party to which I 
should long ere now have belonged. Since I could 
not alter my outward circumstances, I resolved upon 
internal change. I threw myself into philosophy, and, 
as you know, into the Kantean. Here I found the 
remedy for my evils, and joy enough to boot. The 



4.4 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

influence of this philosophy, and particularly the moral 
part of it (which, however, is unintelligible without 
previous study of the Critique of Pure Reason), upon 
the whole spiritual life, and particularly the revolution 
which it has caused in my own mode of thought, is 
indescribable. To you, especially, I owe the ac- 
knowledgment, that I now heartily believe in the free- 
dom of man, and am well convinced that it is only on 
this supposition that duty, virtue, or morality of any 
kind, is so much as possible ;— a truth which indeed I 
saw before, and perhaps acquired from you. Further, 
it is very evident to me, that many pernicious conse- 
quences to society flow lrom the commonly-received 
principle of the necessity of all human actions ; that it 
is the source of a great part of the immorality of the 
so-called higher classes ; and that if any one, accepting 
this principle, yet preserves himself pure from such 
corruption, it is not on account of the innocence, or 
even the utility of the principle itself. Your uncor- 
rupted moral feelings guided you more truly than did 
my arguments, and you must admit that, in the latter 
respect, error is pardonable. A multitude of others, 
who do not err, have to thank, not their greater acute- 
ness, but their inconsequential reasoning. I am also 
firmly convinced that this is no land of enjoyment here 
below, but a land of laoor and toil, and that every joy 
should be nothing more than a refreshment and an in- 
centive to greater exertion ; that the ordering of our 
fortune is not demanded of us, but only the cultivation 
of ourselves Hence I do not trouble myself about 
outward things, — endeavor not to seem, but to be; 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



45 



and it is to these convictions that I am indebted for the 
deep tranquillity of soul which I enjoy. My external 
circumstances suit well with these dispositions. I am 
master of no one, and no one's servant. I have 
no further prospects : the present constitution of the 
church, and indeed the men who compose it, do not 
please me. So long as I can maintain my present 
independence, I shall do so at all hazards. 

" You ask whether I contribute to the journals ? 
No, to none of them. It was my intention, at first, 
to write for the " Bibliothek der Schonen Wissen- 
schaften." But all is anarchy there. Weisse is called 
the editor, but the bookseller is the editor ; and I will 
have nothing to do with a bookseller in matters of this 
kind. I sent my essay upon Klopstock's Messias to 
B. for the " Deutsche Museum." He replied, that 
he feared that the poet, who had for some time honored 
him w 7 ith his friendship, would take it ill if he should 
publish an essay which might put his Messias in danger, 
&c, &c. I was satisfied with his answer, for I had 
already repented of the sin. If ever I become an 
author, it shall be on my own account. Moreover, 
authorship as a trade is not for me. It is incredible 
how much labor it costs me to accomplish something 
with which, after all, I am but half satisfied. The more 
I write, the more difficult does it become. I see that 
I want the living fire." 

On the same subject, he writes to his school and 
college friend Weisshuhn : — 

" I have lived in a new world since I have read the 
Critique of Practical Reason. Principles which I 



46 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



believed were irrefragable, are refuted ; things which 
I thought could never be proved, — as for example, the 
idea of absolute freedom, of duty, — are proved ; and 
I am so much the happier. It is indescribable what 
respect for humanity, what power this system gives us ! 
But why should I say this to you, who have known it 
longer than I have done ? What a blessing to an age 
in which morality was torn up by the roots, and the 
name of duty obliterated from every vocabulary ! " 

And with still greater warmth he speaks of his new 
studies to Johanna Rahn : — 

" My scheming spirit has now found rest, and I thank 
Providence that, shortly before all my hopes were 
frustrated, I was placed in a position which enabled me 
to bear the diappointment with cheerfulness. A cir- 
cumstance, which seemed the result of mere chance, 
led me to give myself up entirely to the study of the 
Kantean philosophy — a philosophy that restrains the 
imagination, which was always too powerful with me, 
gives reason the sway, and praises the soul to an inde- 
scribable elevation above all earthly concerns. I have 
accepted a nobler morality, and instead of occupying 
myself with outward things, I employ myself more with 
my own being. This has given me a peace such as I 
have never before experienced : amid uncertain worldly 
prospects I have passed my happiest days. I shall 
devote some years of my life to this philosophy ; and 
all that I write, at least for several years to come, shall 
be upon it. It is difficult beyond all conception, and 

stands much in need of simplification 

The principles are indeed hard speculations which have 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 47 

no direct bearing on human life, but their consequences 
are most important for an age whose morality is cor- 
rupted at the fountain-head ; and to set these conse- 
quences before the world in a clear light, would, I 
believe, be doing it a good service. Say to thy dear 
father, whom I love as my own, that we erred in our 
inquiries into the necessity of human actions, for al- 
though we proceeded with accuracy, we set out from a 
false principle. I am now thoroughly convinced that 
the human will is free, and that to be happy is not the 
purpose of our being, — but to deserve happiness. I 
have to ask pardon of thee too, for having often led 
thee astray by such assertions. Achelis was right ; 
without knowing it indeed ; and why ? Henceforth 
believe in thine own feelings ; thou mayst not be able 
to confute opposing reasoners, yet they shall be con- 
futed, and are so already, though they do not under- 
stand the confutation." 

Inspired with this enthusiastic admiration for the 
Critical Philosophy, he resolved to become the expo- 
nent of its principles, and to rescue it from the obscurity 
which an uncouth terminology had thrown around it. 
This attempt had indeed been made already, and was 
still making, by a host of commentators, but the ma- 
jority of these were either deficient in capacity, or, 
actuated by sordid motives, had eagerly seized the 
opportunity of gain which the prevalent excitement af- 
forded, and crowded the literary market with crude and 
superficial productions. Fichte accordingly commenc- 
ed an expository abridgment of Kant's Critique of the 
faculty of judgment. It was to be divided into two 



48 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

parts, — the one devoted to the power of eesthetical, 
the other to that of teleological judgment. The first 
part was completed and sent to his friend Weisshuhn 
for correction, but the progress of the work was inter- 
rupted by events which caused him to leave Leipzic : 
it was never finished, and no part of it was published. 

Interesting and remarkable too in this connection is 
the following passage from a letter written about this 
time to a literary friend : — 

<c If I am not deceived by the disposition of youth, 
which is more ready to hope than to fear, the golden 
age of our literature is at band ; it will be enduring, and 
may perhaps surpass the most brilliant period in that of 
any other nation. The seed which Lessing sowed in 
his letters, and in his 'Dramaturgic,' now begins to 
bear fruit. His principles seem every day to be more 
extensively received and made the foundation of our 
literary judgments ; and Goethe's c Iphigenie ' is the 
strongest proof of the possibility of their realization. 
And it seems to me, that he who in his twentieth year 
wrote the c Robbers,' will, sooner or later, tread in 
the same path, and in his fortieth become our ' Sopho- 
cles.'" 

And so it was ! — He who in his twentieth year 
wrote the " Robbers," did literally in his fortieth pro- 
duce his " Wallenstein," followed in brilliant succession 
by " Mary Stuart," " The Maid of Orleans," — and, 
last and brightest of the train, by " William Tell," — 
a parting gift to the world from the cc Sophocles " of 
Germany. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 49 

And now the time drew near which was at once to 
terminate his struggles with fortune, and realize the 
dearest wish of his heart. It had been arranged that 
Fichte should return to Zurich in 1791, to be united 
with her whom he most loved and honored upon earth. 
The noble-minded woman who was now to bind herself 
to him for ever, had resolved that henceforth he should 
pursue his literary undertakings, free from the cares of 
life. But Fichte looked forward to no period of inglo- 
rious repose ; his ardent spirit had already formed a 
thousand plans of useful and honorable activity. " Not 
happiness, but labor," was his principle — a principle 
which ruled all his actions, in prosperity as well as in 
adversity. His letters to Johanna Rahn, in anticipa- 
tion of this joyful event, breathe the same dignified ten- 
derness which characterized their earlier correspond- 
ence : — 

" And so, dearest, I solemnly devote myself to thee, 
— consecrate myself to be thine. I thank thee that 
thou hast thought me not unworthy to be thy compan- 
ion on the journey of life. I have undertaken much : 
one day — God grant it be a distant one ! — to take 
the place of thy noble father ; to become the recom- 
pense of thy early wisdom, of thy child-like love, of 
thy steadfast virtue. The thought of the great duties 
which I take upon me, makes me feel how little 
I am. But the feeling of the greatness of these duties 
shall exalt me ; and thy love, thy too favorable opinion 
of me, will lend to my imperfection all that I want. 
There is no land of happiness here below — I know it 
4 



50 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



now — but a land of toil, where every joy but strength- 
ens us for greater labor. Hand in hand we shall tra- 
verse it, and encourage and strengthen each other, until 
our spirits — O may it be together ! — shall rise to the 
eternal fountain of all peace. I stand now in fancy at 
the most important point of my earthly existence, which 
divides it into two different, very different, portions, 
— and marvel at the unseen hand which has led me 
through the first, dangerous part, through the land of 
perplexity and doubt ! How long had I despaired of 
such a companion as thou, in whom manly dignity and 
female tenderness are united ! What if I had content- 
ed myself with some decorated puppet of thy sex ? — 
that Being who rules all things was kinder to me than, 
in the feeling of my unworthiness, I had dared to wish or 
hope ; — I was led to thee. That Being will do yet 
more for me. We shall one day, O dearest, stand 
again at the partition-wall which shall divide our whole 
life into two parts — into an earthly and a spiritual ; — 
and then shall we look upon the latter part of the earth- 
ly which we shall have traversed together, as we do 
now upon its first part ; and surely we shall then too 
marvel at the same wisdom which now calls forth our 
wonder, but with loftier feelings and with clearer insight. 

I love to place myself in that position 

ct The surest means of acquiring a conviction of a 
life after death, is so to act in this life that w T e can ven- 
ture to wish for another. He who feels that if there 
is a God he must look down graciously upon him, will 
not be disturbed by arguments against his being, and 
he needs none for it. He who has sacrificed so much 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 51 

for virtue that be looks for recompense in a future life, 
needs no proof of the reality of such a life ; — he does 
not believe in it — he fee/ s it. And so, thou dear com- 
panion for this short life and for eternity, we shall 
strengthen each other in this conviction, not by argu- 
ments but by deeds." 

" Leipzic, 1st March, 1791. 

" At the end of this month I shall be free, and have 
determined to come to thee. 1 see nothing that can 
prevent me. I indeed still await the sanction of my 
parents ; but I have been for a long time so well assur- 
ed of their love — almost, if I may venture to say it, of 
their deference to my opinion, that I need not anticipate 
any obstacle on their part. 

TV TV* *7p *K* vP 

And now dearest, I turn to thee, passing over all 
things unconnected with thee, which therefore do not 
interest me. Is it true, or is it but a sweet dream, 
that I am so near to the one best joy of my life, 
— the possession of the noblest of souls, chosen 
and destined for me by the Creator from among all 
other souls ? — that my happiness, my peace, shall 
be the objeet of your wishes, your cares, your prayers ? 
Could my feelings but flow to thee, warm as at this 
moment they are streaming through my breast, and 
threatening to burst it asunder ! 

" Accept me then, dearest maiden, with all my 
faults. How glad am I to think that T can give myself 
to one who can take me with these faults ; who has wis- 
dom and strength enough to love me with them all, — 



52 MEMOIR OF F1CHTE. 

to help me to destroy them, so that I may one day 
appear with her, purified from all blemish, before Him 
who created us for each other ! — Never have I been 
more sincerely penetrated by this feeling of my weak- 
ness, than since I received thy last letter, which reminds 
me of the poverty of all that I have said to thee ; 
which reminds me of the vacillating state of mind in 
which I have written to thee. O what a man I have 
been ! — People have sometimes attributed to me firm- 
ness of character, and I have been vain enough to ac- 
cept their flattery as truth. To what accident am I 
indebted for this opinion, — I who have always allowed 
myself to be guided by circumstances, — whose soul 
has taken the colors of the events that surrounded me ? 
With great pretensions, which I could never have main- 
tained, I left Zurich. My hopes were all wrecked. 
Out of despair, more than from taste, I threw myself 
into the Kantean philosophy, and found a peace for 
which indeed I have to thank my good health and the 
free flight of my fancy ; and even deceived myself so 
far as to believe that the sublime thoughts which I im- 
printed upon my memory were natives of my soul. 
Circumstances led me to another employment less satis- 
factory to the heart ; and the change in my mode of 
life, — the winter, which never agrees with me, — an 
indisposition, and the troubles of a short journey, — 
these things could disturb the deeply-rooted peace of 
the philosopher, and bring me into a frightful humor ! 
Shall I always be thus tossed to and fro like a wave ? 
Take thou me, then, thou brave soul, and strengthen 
this indecision. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 53 

" Yet while I lament my inconstancy, how happy 
am I that I can pour out these complaints to a heart 
which knows me too well to misunderstand me ! One 
of my feelings I can acquit of all fickleness : I can say 
it boldly, that I have never been untrue to thee, even 
in thought ; and it is a touching proof of thy noble 
character, that amid all thy tender cares for me, thou 
hast never been anxious about this. 

" The day of my departure is not exactly fixed, and 
I cannot determine it till I am about to set out. But 
it will be one of the first days of April. I shall write 
to thee of it, and I shall also write to thee on my 
journey." 

And now alibis brightest dreams were to be fulfilled ; 
his cup was brimming with anticipated delight, the 
draught of joy was almost at his lips, when it was rudely 
dashed from his grasp. The day of his departure was 
already fixed, when the bankruptcy of a mercantile 
house to which Rahn had entrusted his property, threw 
the affairs of the latter into disorder, and even threat- 
ened to reduce him to indigence in his old age. Hap- 
pily a part of his property was ultimately saved, but, in 
the meantime at least, all plans which were founded on 
his former prosperity were at an end. His misfortunes 
brought upon him a lingering sickness, by which he was 
brought to the brink of the grave. His life was pre- 
served by the tender and - unremitting cares of his 
daughter. In those dark years, when scarcely a ray of 
hope broke the gloom of present calamity, her conduct 
displayed that high-minded devotion which bears inevi- 
4 # 



54 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

table suffering without a murmur, and almost raises the 
passive above the active virtues of our nature. 

As for Fichte, he had now become inured to disap- 
pointment. His courage soon returned to him, but he 
was filled with chagrin at having no power either to 
alleviate, or to share, the distresses of one dearer to 
him than life itself. The world with its difficulties and 
doubts was once more before him, and once more his 
indomitable spirit rose superior to them all. He obtained 
an appointment as tutor in the house of a Polish noble- 
man at Warsaw, and having announced his departure to 
Johanna Rahn in a letter in which he bids her be of 
good courage, and assures her earnestly of his own 
faithfulness, he once more assumed his pilgrim staff and 
turned his back upon Leipzic. 

His diary written during this pedestrian journey to 
Poland evinces a clear and acute faculty of observation, 
and sketches very distinctly the peculiarities of the 
Saxon and Silesian character. One passage only, and 
that relative to a different subject, is here quoted : — 

" 9th May. — Arrived at Bichofswerda in good 
time ; drank tea at the inn, and sent my letter to Ram 
menau. Soon appeared my brother Gotthelf, the kind 
soul, whom I looked for the previous day at Pillnitz ; 
and immediately after him, Gottlob. My father had 
not been at home, but he came soon after — the good, 
honest, kind father ! His look, his tone, his reasoning 
— how much good they always do me ! Take away 
all my learning, O God, and make me such a good, 
true, faithful man ! — how much would I gain by the 
exchange ! " 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 55 

On the 7th of June he arrived at Warsaw, and im- 
mediately waited upon his employer, the Count Von 

P . The Count was a good, easy man, perfectly 

submissive to the guidance of his wife, a vain, haughty, 
and whimsical woman. Fichte's pronunciation of the 
French language was found to be unsatisfactory, and his 
German bluntness of demeanor still more so. He 
discovered that this was no place for him, where the 
teacher was regarded as a hanger-on of the Countess, 
and no respect was paid to the dignity of his profession. 
He resigned his office without having entered upon its 
duties, and having with some difficulty obtained from 
the Countess by way of compensation, a sum sufficient 
for his maintenance for the succeeding two months, he 
resolved to visit Konigsberg, instead of returning direct- 
ly to his native country, in order that he might have an 
opportunity of cultivating a personal acquaintance with 
Kant, his great master in Philosophy. Having preach- 
ed in the Evangelical Church at Warsaw before his 
departure, he left that city on the 25th of June for 
Konigsberg. 

Immediately on his arrival he visited Kant, but his 
first impressions of the Critical Philosopher do not 
seem to have been very favorable. His impetuous en- 
thusiasm was chilled by a cold, formal reception, and 
he retired deeply disappointed. Unwilling, however, 
to abandon the purpose which had led him to Konigs- 
berg, he sought for some" means of obtaining a more 
free and earnest interview, but for some time without 
success. At last he determined to write a " Kritik 
aller Offenbarung " (Critique of all Revelation), which 



56 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

should serve as an introduction. He began on the 
13th of July, and sent the finished work to Kant on 
the 18th of August. He went on the 23d to hear the 
opinion of the philosopher upon it, and was kindly 
received. He heard a very favorable judgment passed 
upon his book, but did not attain his principal object — 
the establishment of a scientific confidence. For the 
solution of his philosophical doubts he was referred to 
the Critique of Pure Reason, or to some of the philo- 
sopher's friends. 

On revising his " Critique of all Revelation," he 
found that it did not thoroughly express his profoundest 
thoughts on the subject, and he therefore began to 
remodel and re-write it. But here again he was over- 
taken by want. Counting over his meagre store of 
money, he found that he had only sufficient for another 
fortnight. Alone and in a strange country, he knew not 
what to resolve upon. After having in vain endeavored 
to get some employment through the friends to whom 
he had been introduced by Kant, he determined to 
reveal to him the situation in which he was placed, and 
request his assistance to enable him to return to his own 
land. His letter to Kant on this subject is so striking- 
ly characteristic of its writer, and describes so truly his 
position at the time, that it is here given at length. 

&o Itant. 

" You will pardon me, sir, if on the present occasion 
I address you in writing rather than in speech. 

" You have already favored me with kind recom- 
mendations which I had not ventured to ask from you, 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 57 

— a generosity which infinitely increases my gratitude, 
and gives me courage to disclose myself entirely to you, 
which otherwise I could not have ventured to do with- 
out your direct permission, — a necessity which he 
who would not willingly reveal himself to every one, 
feels doubly towards a truly good character. 

u In the first place, allow me to assure you, sir, that 
my resolution to proceed from Warsaw to Konigsberg, 
instead of returning to Saxony, was indeed so far an 
interested resolution, that it gave me an opportunity of 
expressing my feelings towards the man to whom I owe 
all my convictions, principles, character, and even the 
very effort to possess such, — of profiting, so far as 
possible in a short time, by your society, and, if allow- 
ed, of recommending myself to your favorable notice 
in my after-life ; — but I never could anticipate my 
present need of your kindness, partly because I con- 
sidered Konigsberg to be fertile in resources, — much 
more so, for example, than Leipzic, — and partly be- 
cause I believed that, in the worst case, I should be 
able to find employment in Livonia, through a friend 
who occupies a creditable situation at Riga. I consider 
this assurance as due — partly to myself, that the feel- 
ings which flow purely from my heart may not incur 
the suspicion of mean selfishness — partly to you, be- 
cause the free open gratitude of one, whom you have 
instructed and improved, cannot be indifferent to you. 

" I have followed the profession of a private tutor for 
five years, and during this time have felt so keenly its 
disagreeable nature, — to be compelled to look upon 
imperfections which must ultimately entail the worst 



58 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

consequences, and yet be hindered in the endeavor to 
establish good habits in their stead, — that I had given 
it up altogether for a year and a half, and, as I thought, 
for ever. . I was induced again to undertake this occu- 
pation in Warsaw, without due consideration, by the ill- 
founded hope that I should find this attempt more fortu- 
nate, and perhaps imperceptibly by a view to pecuniary 
advantage — a resolution the vanity of which has given 
rise to my present embarrassments. I now, on the con- 
trary, feel every day more strongly the necessity of going 
over again, before the years of youth have altogether 
passed away, all those things which the too early praise of 
well-meaning but unwise teachers, — an academic course 
almost completed before my entrance on the proper age 
of youth, — and since that time, my constant depend- 
ence on circumstances, — have caused me to neglect ; 
and resigning all the ambitious views which have im- 
peded my progress, to train myself to all of which I 
am capable, and leave the rest to Providence. This 
object I cannot attain anywhere more surely than in my 
fatherland. I have parents, who cannot, indeed, relieve 
my necessities, but with whom I can live at less ex- 
pense than elsewhere. I can there occupy myself with 
literary pursuits — my true means of culture, to which 
I must devote myself, and for which I have too much 
respect to print anything of the truth of which I am not 
perfectly certain. By a residence in my native pro- 
vince, too, I could most easily obtain, as a village pas- 
tor, the perfect literary quiet which I desire until my 
faculties are matured. My best course thus seems to be 
to return home ; — but I am deprived of the means : I 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 59 

have only two ducats, and even these are not my own, 
for I have yet to pay for my lodgings. There appears, 
then, to be no rescue for me from this situation, unless 
T can find some one who, although unknown to me, yet 
in reliance upon my honor, will advance me the neces- 
sary sum for the expenses of my journey, until the time 
when I can calculate with certainty on being able to 
make repayment. I know no one to whom I could 
offer this security without fear of being laughed at to 
my face, except you, excellent man. 

" It is my maxim never to ask anything from another, 
without having first of all examined whether I myself, 
were the circumstances inverted, would do the same 
thing for some one else. In the present case I have 
found that, supposing I had it in my power, I would do 
this for any person of whom I believed that he was ani- 
mated by the principles by which I know that I myself 
am now governed. 

" I am so convinced of a certain sacrifice of honor 
in thus placing it in pledge, that the very necessity of 
giving you this assurance seems to deprive me of a part 
of it myself; and the deep shame which thus falls upon 
me is the reason why I cannot make an application of 
this kind verbally, for I must have no witnesses of that 
shame. My honor seems to me really doubtful until the 
engagement is fulfilled, because it is always possible for 
the other party to suppose that I may never fulfil it. 
Thus I know, that if you, sir, should consent to my 
request, I would think of you with heartfelt respect and 
gratitude indeed, but yet with a kind of shame; and 
that only after I had redeemed my word, would it be 



60 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



possible for me to call to mind with perfect satisfaction 
an acquaintance with which I hope to be honored during 
life. I know that these feelings arise from tempera- 
ment, not from principle, and are perhaps reprehensi- 
ble ; but I cannot eradicate them, until principle has 
acquired sufficient strength to take their place, and so 
render them superfluous. So far, however, I can rely 
upon my principles, that, were I capable of forfeiting 
my word pledged to you, I should despise myself for 
ever afterwards, and could never again venture to cast 
a glance into my own soul ; principles which constantly 
reminded me of you, and of my dishonor, must needs 
be cast aside altogether, in order to free me from the 
most painful self-reproach. 

" If I were well assured of the existence of such a 
mode of thinking as this in a man, I would do that for 
him with confidence which I now ask from you. How, 
and by what means I could assure myself, were I in 
your place, of the existence of such principles, is like- 
wise clear to me. 

" If it be permitted me to compare very great things 
with very small, I argue from your writings, most 
honored sir, a character in their author above the or- 
dinary mass of men, and, before I knew anything at all 
of your mode of acting in common life, I would have 
ventured to describe it as I now know it to be. For 
myself, I have only laid open before you a small part of 
my nature, at a time, however, when the idea never oc- 
curred to me of making such a use of your acquaint- 
ance ; and my character is not sufficiently formed to 
express itself fully ; — but to compensate for this, you 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 61 

are without comparison a better judge of man than I 
am, and perhaps may have perceived, even from what 
you have seen of me, whether or not a love of truth 
and honor belongs to my character. 

" Lastly — and I add this with shame — if I should 
be found capable of forfeiting my pledge, my worldly 
reputation is in your hands. It is my intention to 
become an author in my own name, and if I leave 
Konigsberg, I wish to request from you introductions 
to some literary men of your acquaintance. To these, 
whose good opinion I would then owe to you, it would 
be your duty to communicate my disgrace ; as it would 
generally be a duty, I think, to warn the world against 
a person of such incorrigible character as he must needs 
be, who could approach a man whose atmosphere is 
untainted by falsehood, and, by assuming the outward 
mien of honesty, deceive his acuteness, and so laugh to 
scorn all virtue and honor. 

" These were the considerations, sir, which induced 
me to write this letter. I am very indifferent about 
that which does not lie within my power, more indeed 
through temperament and personal experience, than on 
principle. It is not the first time that I have been in 
difficulties out of which I could see no way ; but it 
would be the first time that I remained in them, if I 
did so now. Curiosity as to what is to come of it, is 
generally all that I feel in such emergencies. I merely 
adopt the means which appear the best to my mind, 
and then calmly await the consequence. And I can 
do this the more easily in the present case, as I place 
it in the hands of a good and wise man. But in an- 
5 



62 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



other point of view, I send off this letter with unwonted 
anxiety. Whatever may be your determination, I shall 
lose something of comfort and satisfaction in my relation 
towards you. If it be in the affirmative, I can indeed 
again acquire what I have lost ; — if in the negative, 
never. 

* # # * # 

" For the tone which predominates in this letter, I 
cannot, sir, ask your pardon. It is one of the dis- 
tinctions of sages, that he who speaks to them, speaks 
as a man to men. As soon as I can venture to hope 
that I do not disturb you, I shall wait upon you, to 
learn your resolution ; and I am, with heartfelt reve- 
rence and admiration," &c, &c, &c. 

It is difficult to conceive of circumstances short of 
absolute inability, which could induce a man of refined 
sentiments, and especially a scholar and a philosopher, 
to refuse the request contained in this singular letter. 
We are not informed of the cause of Kant's refusal, 
and can therefore only hope that it arose from no mo- 
tive less honorable than that which animated his noble- 
minded suitor. But the request was refused, and 
Fichte once more reduced to extremity. He endeav- 
ored to dispose of the manuscript of his " Kritik aller 
Offenbarung ; " — but Hartung, the bookseller to whom 
Kant had recommended him to apply, was from home, 
and he offered it in vain to any other. The very 
heroism of his life seemed to be the source of his ever- 
recurring difficulties ; — and, truly, he who has resolved 
to lead a life of high purpose and endeavor, must be 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 63 

content to relinquish the advantages which are the 
common reward of plodding worldliness or successful 
knavery. He does relinquish them without a murmur, 
or rather he never seeks them ; — his thoughts aspire 
to a loftier recompense, and that he will surely attain. 

But light once more dawned on these dark and hope- 
less prospects ; and that from a quarter whence it was 
least of all expected. When the little money which he 
had remaining was almost entirely exhausted, he re- 
ceived an invitation, through the Court-preacher Schulz, 
to a tutorship in the family of the Count of Krokow, 
in the neighborhood of Dantzig. Although, as we 
have seen, his views were now directed to a life of 
literary exertion, yet necessity compelled him to accept 
this proposal ; and he entered on his new employment, 
experiencing the most friendly reception and the kind- 
est attentions. The amiable character and excellent 
abilities of the Countess rendered his residence in her 
family not only happy, but interesting and instructive ; — 
his letters at this period are full of her praises. This 
fortunate appointment was but the beginning of many 
years of uninterrupted prosperity which now awaited 
him. Fortune seemed to have tired of her relentless 
persecutions, and now resolved to shine graciously upon 
his path. 

Through the agency of his friends at Konigsberg, he 
now made arrangements with Hartung for the publica- 
tion of his u Kritik aller OfFenbarung." When the 
book was submitted to the censorship of the Dean of 
the Theological Faculty at Halle, where it was to be 



64 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE, 



printed, he refused his sanction on account of the prin- 
ciple contained in it, — That no proof of the divinity 
of a revelation is to be derived from an appeal to 
miracles occurring in connection with it, but that the 
question of its authenticity can be decided only by an 
examination of the contents of the supposed revelation. 
Fichte urged that his book was a philosophical, not 
a theological essay, and therefore did not properly 
come under the cognizance of the Theological Faculty ; 
— but this plea was urged in vain. His friends advised 
him to withdraw the obnoxious passages ; even Schulz, 
who united theological orthodoxy with his ardent Kant- 
ism, advised him to do so. But on this point Fichte 
was inflexible ; he determined that the book should be 
printed entire, or not printed at all. He resolved, 
however, to consult Kant on the subject, as the highest 
authority to whom he could appeal. As this question 
has now begun to excite some interest in the philo- 
sophico-theological world of England and America, it 
is deemed advisable to insert here the gist of this cor- 
respondence, embodying as it does the views of two 
most eminent men, who, both by their mental endow- 
ments and by their position in life, were better qualified 
than most other men to give an impartial judgment on 
the matter at issue. 

jm&te to Ifcant. 

" 22d January, 1792. 

" A friend whom I respect has written to me a kind 
and touching letter upon this subject, in which he re- 
quests that, in the event of a possible revision of the 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 65 

work during the delay which has occurred in printing, 
I should endeavor to set two points, upon which we 
are at issue, in another light. I have said, that faith in 
a given revelation cannot reasonably be founded upon 
belief in miracles, because no miracle is demonstrable 
as such ; but I have added in a note, that it may be 
allowable to employ the idea of miracles having oc- 
curred in connection with a revelation, in order to 
direct the attention of those, who need the aid of out 
ward and sensible manifestations, to the other sufficient 
grounds upon which the revelation may be received as 
divine ; — the only modification of the former principle 
which I can admit. I have said, further, that a reve- 
lation cannot extend the materials either of our dog- 
matic or our moral knowledge ; but I admit, that upon 
transcendental objects, in the fact of whose existence 
we believe, but can know nothing whatever of the 
mode of that existence, it may furnish us with some- 
thing in the room of experience — something which, for 
those who so conceive of such matters, shall possess a 
subjective truth, — which, however, is not to be re- 
ceived as a substantial addition to, but only as an 
embodied and formal manifestation of, those spiritual 
things possessed by us a priori. Notwithstanding con- 
tinued reflection upon these points, I have hitherto 
found no reason which can justify me in altering my 
conclusions. May I venture to ask you, sir, as the 
most competent judge, to tell me in two words, whether 
any other results upon these points are to be sought for, 
and if so, in what direction ; — or if these are the only 
grounds on which a critique of the Revelation-idea can 
5* 



66 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

safely proceed ? If you will favor me with these two 
words of reply, I shall make no use of them incon- 
sistent with the deep respect I entertain for you. As 
to my friend's letter, I have already said in answer, that 
I do not cease to give my attention to the subject, and 
shall always be ready to retract what I am convinced 
is erroneous. 

" As to the prohibition of the censor, after the 
clearly-declared object of the essay, and the tone which 
predominates throughout its pages, I can only wonder 
at it. I cannot understand where the Theological 
Faculty acquired the right to apply their censorship to 
such a mode of treating such a subject." 

Want's 3M$. 

" 2d February, 1792. 

" You desire to be informed by me whether any rem- 
edy can be found against the strict censorship under 
which your book has fallen, without entirely laying it 
aside. I answer, none; — so far as, without having 
read the book thoroughly, I can determine from what 
your letter announces as its leading principle, namely, 
— c that faith in a given revelation cannot reasonably 
be founded on a belief in miracles.' 

w For it inevitably follows from this, that a religion 
can contain only such articles of faith as likewise be- 
long to the province of pure reason. This principle 
is in my opinion quite unobjectionable, and neither 
abolishes the subjective necessity of a revelation, nor 
of miracle (for it may be assumed, that whether or not 
it might have been possible for reason, unaided by rev- 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



67 



elation, to have discovered those articles, which, now 
when they are actually before us, may indeed be com- 
prehended by reason ; — yet it may have been necessary 
to introduce them by miracles, — which, however, now 
when religion can support itself and its articles of 
faith, need not longer be relied upon as the foundation 
of belief) : — but according to the maxims which seem 
to be adopted by the censor, this principle will not 
carry you through. For, according to these, certain 
writings must be received into the profession of faith 
according to their letter, since it is difficult for human 
understanding to comprehend them, and much more 
for human reason to conceive of them as true ; and 
hence they really need the continued support of mi- 
racle, and thus only can become articles of reasonable 
belief. The view which represents revelation as merely 
a sensible manifestation of these principles in accommo- 
dation to human weakness, and hence as possessed of 
subjective truth only, is not sufficient for the censor, 
for his views demand the recognition of its objective 
truth according to the letter. 

" One way, however, remains open, to bring your 
book into harmony with the ideas of the censor: i. c, 
if you can make him comprehend and approve the 
distinction between a dogmatic belief raised above all 
doubt, and a mere moral admission, resting on the 
insufficiency of reason to satisfy its own wants ; for 
then the faith which good moral sentiment reposes upon 
miracle may probably thus express itself: ' Lord, I 
believe ' — (that is, I receive it willingly, although 
cannot prove it sufficiently) — ' help thou mine unbe- 



68 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

lief ! ' — that is, ' I have a moral faith in respect of all 
that I can draw from the miraculous narrative for the 
purposes of inward improvement, and I desire to pos- 
sess an historical belief in so far as that can contribute 
to the same end. My unintentional non-belief is not 
confirmed unbelief.' But you will not easily make 
this distinction acceptable to a censor who, it is to be 
feared, makes historical belief an unconditional religious 
duty. 

u With these hastily, but not inconsiderately thrown 
out ideas, you may do whatever seems good to you 
(provided you are yourself convinced of their truth), 
without making any direct or indirect allusion to him 
who communicates them." 

iHcljte to Bant. 

" 17th February, 1792. 

u Your kind letter has given me much gratification, 
as well on account of the goodness which so soon ful- 
filled my request, as on account of the matter it con- 
tains : upon that subject I now feel all the peace of 
mind which, next to one's own conviction, the authority 
of a man who is honored above all other men can give. 

" If I have rightly conceived your meaning, 1 have 
actually pursued in my work the middle course which 
you point out — of distinguishing between an affirmative 
belief, and a faith founded on moral considerations. I 
have endeavored carefully to distinguish between that 
which, according to my principle, is the only possible 
and reasonable kind of faith in the divinity of a given 
revelation (that faith, namely, which has for its object 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 69 

only a certain form of the truths of religion) — and 
the belief which accepts these truths in themselves as 
postulates of pure reason. This faith is only a free 
acceptance of the divine origin of a particular form of 
religious truth grounded on experience of the efficacy 
of such a form as a means of moral perfection ; — 
such an acceptance, indeed, as no one can prove 
either to himself or others, but which, on the other 
hand, cannot be refuted ; an acceptance which is merely 
subjective, and, unlike the faith of pure reason, is not 
universally binding, since it is founded on individual 
experience alone. I believe that I have placed this 
distinction in a tolerably clear light, and I have endeav- 
ored to set forth fully the practical consequences of 
these principles : namely, that while they save us the 
labor of forcing our own subjective convictions upon 
others, they secure to every one the undisturbed pos- 
session of everything in religion which he can apply to 
his own improvement, and thus silence the opponents 
of positive religion, not less than its dogmatical de- 
fenders — principles for which I do not deserve the 
anger of the truth-loving theologian. But yet it has so 
fallen out ; and I am now determined to leave the book 
as it is, and to allow the publisher to deal with the 
matter as he chooses." 

The difficulty which gave rise to the preceding let- 
ters was happily got rid of by a change in the censor- 
ship. The new dean, Dr. Knapp, did not partake in 
the scruples of his predecessor ; he gave his consent 
to the publication, and the work appeared at Easter, 



70 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

1792. At first, it was universally ascribed to Kant. 
The journals devoted to the Critical Philosophy teemed 
with laudatory notices, until at length Kant found it 
necessary publicly to disclaim the paternity of the book 
by disclosing its real author. 

The " Kritik aller OrTenbarung " is an attempt to 
determine the natural and necessary conditions, under 
which alone a revelation from a superior intelligence 
to man is possible, and consequently to lay down the 
criteria by which anything that claims the character of 
such a revelation is to be tested. The design, as well 
as the execution, of the work is strikingly characteristic 
of its author ; for, although the form of the Kantean 
philosophy is much more distinctly impressed upon this, 
his first literary production, than upon his subsequent 
writings, yet it does not, it cannot conceal those bril- 
liant qualities to which he owed his future fame. That 
profound and searching intellect, which, in the province 
of pure metaphysics, casts aside as fallacious and de- 
ceptive those solid-seeming principles on which ordi- 
nary men are content to take their stand, and clearing 
its way to the most hidden depths of thought, sought 
there a firm foundation on which to build a structure of 
human knowledge, whose summit should tower as high 
above common faith as its base was sunk deep below 
common observation, — does here, when applied to a 
question of practical judgment, exhibit the same clear- 
ness of vision, strength of thought, and subtilty of 
discrimination. In the conduct of this inquiry, Fichte 
manifests the same single eye to truth, and reverent 
devotion to her when found, which characterize all his 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 71 

writings and his life. His book has nothing in common 
with those superficial attacks upon revelation, or equally 
superficial defences of it, which are so rife in our days, 
and which afford so much scope for petty personal ani- 
mosities. The mathematician, while constructing his 
theorem, does not pause to inquire who may be inter- 
ested in its future applications ; nor does the philosopher, 
while calmly settling the conditions and principles of 
knowledge, concern himself about what opinions may 
ultimately be found incompatible with them : — these 
may take care of themselves. Far above the dark 
vortex of theological strife in which punier intellects 
chafe and vex themselves in vain, Fichte struggles for- 
ward to the sunshine of pure thought, which sectarian- 
ism cannot see, because its weakened vision is already 
filled with a borrowed and imperfect light. M Form 
and style," he says in his preface, " are my affair ; 
the censure or contempt which these may incur affects 
me alone ; — and that is of little moment. The result 
is the affair of truth, and that is of moment. That 
must be subjected to a strict, but careful and impartial 
examination. I, at least, have acted impartially. I may 
have erred, and it would be astonishing if I had not. 
What measure of correction I may deserve, let the pub- 
lic decide. Every judgment, however expressed, I shall 
thankfully acknowledge ; every objection which seems 
incompatible with the cause of truth, I shall meet as well 
as I can. To truth I solemnly devote myself, at my first 
entrance into public life. Without respect of party or of 
reputation, I shall always acknowledge that to be truth 
which I recognize as such ; come whence it may ; and 



72 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

never acknowledge that which I do not believe. The 
public will pardon me for having thus spoken of myself, 
on this first and only occasion. It may be of little im- 
portance to the world to receive this assurance, but it is 
of importance to me to call upon it to bear witness to this 
my solemn vow." Never was vow more nobly fulfilled ! 

Early in 1973, Fichte left Dantzig for Zurich, to 
accomplish the wish dearest to his heart. The follow- 
ing extracts are from a letter written shortly before his 
departure : — 

2Fo Jofoanna 3ftajm. 

" Dantzig, 5th March, 1793. 

" In June, or at the latest July, I shall be with 
thee : but I should wish to enter the walls of Zurich 
as thy husband — Is that possible ? Thy kind heart will 
give no hindrance to my wishes ; but 1 do not know 
the circumstances. But I hope, and this hope comforts 

me much. God ! what happiness dost thou prepare 

for me, the unworthy ! 1 have never felt so deeply 

convinced that my existence is not to be in vain for the 
world, as when I read thy letter. What I receive in 
thee, I have not deserved ; it can therefore be only a 
means of strengthening me for the labor and toil which 
yet await me. Let thy life but flow smoothly on, — 
thou sweet, dear one ! 

u Thou wilt fashion thyself by me ! What I could 
perhaps give thee, thou dost not need ; what thou canst 
bestow on me, I need much. Do thou, good, kind 
one, shed a lasting peace upon this tempestuous heart ; 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 73 

pour gentle and winning mildness over my fiery zeal for 
the ennobling of my fellow men. By thee will I fashion 
myself, till I can go forth again more usefully. 

" I have great, glowing prospects. My ambition 
(pride rather) thou canst understand. It is to purchase 
my place in the human race with deeds, to bind up with 
my existence eternal consequences for humanity and 
the whole spiritual world ; no one need know that / do 
it, if it be only done. What I shall be in the civil 
w T orld, I know not. If instead of immediate activity I 
be destined to speech, my desire has already anticipated 
thy wish, that it should be rather from a pulpit than 
from a chair. There is at present no want of pros- 
pects of that kind. Even from Saxony I receive most 
profitable invitations. I am about to go to Lubeck and 
Hamburg. In Dantzig they are unwilling to let me go. 
All that for the future ! That I am not idle, I have 
shown by refusing, within this half year, many invita- 
tions which would have been very alluring to idlers. 
For the present I will be nothing but Fichte. 

"I may perhaps desire an office in a few years. I 
hope it will not be wanting. Till then I can get what I 
require by my pen : at least, it has never failed me yet, 
in my many wanderings and sacrifices." 

Fichte arrived in Zurich on the 16th day of June, 
1793, after having once more visited his parents, and 
received their cordial approbation of his future plans. 
In consequence, however, of some delays arising out 
of the laws of that state affecting foreigners, it was not 
until the 22d October that his marriage with Johanna 
6 



74 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



Rahn took place. After a short tour in Switzerland, 
in the course of which his already wide-spread fame 
brought him into contact with several distinguished men, 
— Baggesen, Pestalozzi, &c, — he took up his resi- 
dence in the house of his father-in-law. Here he en- 
joyed for several months a life of undisturbed repose, 
in the society of her whose love had been his stay in 
times of adversity and doubt, and now gave to pros- 
perity a keener relish and a holier aim. 

But while happiness and security dwelt in the peace- 
ful Swiss canton, the rest of Europe was torn asunder 
by that fearful convulsion which made the close of last 
century the most remarkable period in the history of 
the world. Principles which had once bound men to- 
gether in bonds of truth and fealty had become false 
and hollow mockeries ; and that evil time had arrived 
in which those who were nominally the leaders and 
rulers of the people had ceased to command their reve- 
rence and attachment ; nay, by countless oppressions 
and follies, had become the objects of their bitter hatred 
and contempt. And now one nation speaks forth the 
word which all are struggling to utter, and soon every 
eye is turned upon France, — the theatre on which the 
new act in the drama of human history is to be acted ; 
where freedom and right are once more to become re- 
alities ; where man, no longer a mere appendage to the 
soil, is to start forth on a new career of activity and 
honor, and show the world the spectacle of an ennobled 
and regenerated race. The enslaved of all nations 
rouse themselves at the shout of deliverance ; the patri- 
ot's heart throbs higher at the cry — the poet dreams of 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 75 

a new golden age — the philosopher looks with eager 
eye for the solution of the mighty problem of human 
destiny. All, alas! are doomed to disappointment; 
and over the grave where their hopes lie buried, a les- 
son of fearful significance stands inscribed in characters 
of desolation and blood, proclaiming to all ages, that 
where the law of liberty is not written upon the soul, 
outward freedom is a mockery, and unchecked power a 
curse. 

In 1793 Fichte published his " Contributions to the 
correction of public opinion upon the French Revolu- 
tion." The leading principle of this work is, that there 
is, and can be, no absolutely unchangeable political con- 
stitution, because none absolutely perfect can be re- 
alized ; — the relatively best constitution must therefore 
carry within itself the principle of change and improve- 
ment. And if it be asked from whom this improve- 
ment should proceed, it is replied, that all parties to 
the political contract ought equally to possess this right. 
And by this political contract is to be understood, not 
any actual and recorded agreement — for both the old 
and new opponents of this view think they can destroy 
it at once by the easy remark, that we have no histori- 
cal proof of the existence of such a contract — but the 
abstract idea of a State, which, as the peculiar founda- 
tion of all rights, should lie at the bottom of every 
actual political fabric. The work comprises also an 
inquiry concerning the privileged classes in society, 
particularly the nobility and clergy, whose prerogatives 
are subjected to a prolonged and rigid scrutiny. In 
particular, the conflict between the universal rights of 



76 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

reason, and historical privileges which often involve 
great injustice, is brought prominently into notice. This 
book brought upon Fichte the charge of being a demo- 
crat, which was afterwards extended into that of athe- 
ism ! The following passage is from his own defence 
against the former charge, written at a later period : — 
c£ And so I am a democrat ! — And what is a dem- 
ocrat ? One who represents the democratic form of 
government as the only just one, and recommends its 
introduction ? I should think, if he does this merely 
in his writings, that, even under a monarchical govern- 
ment, the refutation of his error, if it be an error, 
might be left to other literary men. So long as he 
makes no direct attempt to overthrow the existing gov- 
ernment and put his own scheme in its place, I do not 
see how his opinions can come before the judgment- 
seat of the State, which takes cognizance of actions 
only. However, I know that my opponents think 
otherwise on this point. Let them think so, if they 
choose : does the accusation then justly apply to me ? 
Am I a democrat in the foregoing sense of that word ? 
They may indeed have neither heard nor read anything 
about me, since they settled this idea in their minds, 
and wrote ' democrat ' over my head in their imagina- 
tions. Let them look at my ' Principles of Natural 
Law,' vol. i. p. 189, &c. It is impossible to name any 
writer who has declared more decidedly, and on strong- 
er grounds, against the democratic form of government, 
as an absolutely illegitimate form. Let them make a 
fair extract from that book. They will find that I re- 
quire a submission to law, a jurisdiction of law over 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 77 

the actions of the citizen, such as was never before 
demanded by any teacher of jurisprudence, and has 
never been attempted to be realized in any constitution. 
Most of the complaints which I have heard against this 
system, have turned on the assertion that it derogated 
too much from the freedom (licentiousness and lawless- 
ness) of men. I am thus far from preaching anarchy. 
" But they do not attach a definite and scientific 
meaning to the word. If all the circumstances in which 
they use this expression were brought together, it 
might perhaps be possible to say what particular sense 
they annex to it ; and it is quite possible that, in this 
sense, I may be a very decided democrat ; — it is at 
least so far certain, that I would rather not be at all, 
than be the subject of caprice and not of law." 

During the period of his residence at Zurich, how- 
ever, Fichte's attention was occupied with another sub- 
ject, more important to science and to his own future 
fame, than his political speculations. This was the 
philosophical system on which his reputation chiefly 
rests. It would be altogether out of place in the pres- 
ent Memoir to enter at large upon a subject so vast and 
profound, if indeed it might not prove altogether impos 
sible to present, in any form intelligible to the ordinary 
English reader, the results of these abstruse and difficult 
speculations. Yet the peculiarities of Fichte's philo- 
sophical system are so intimately bound up with the 
personal character of its author, that both lose some- 
thing of their completeness when considered apart from 
each other. And it is principally with a view to illus- 
6* 



78 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

trate the harmony between his life and his philosophy, 
that an attempt is here made to point out some of its 
distinguishing features. As Fichte's system may be 
considered the complement of those which preceded it, 
we must view it in connection with the more important 
of these ; and for the same reason we shall speak of it 
here, not as it shaped itself at first in the mind of its 
author, but in the developed and finally completed form 
in which he taught it at a later period of his life. 

The final results of the philosophy of Locke were 
two-fold. In France, the school of Condillac, imi- 
tating the example of the English philosopher rather 
than following out his first principles, occupied itself ex- 
clusively with the phenomena of sensation, leaving out 
of sight the no less indisputable facts to which reflec- 
tion is our sole guide. The consequence was a system 
of unmixed materialism, a deification of physical na- 
ture, and ultimately, avowed atheism. In Great Brit- 
ain, the philosophy of experience was more justly 
treated : both sources of human knowledge which 
Locke indicated at the outset of his inquiry — although 
in the body of his essay he analyzed one of them only 
— were recognized by his followers in his own land, 
until Bishop Berkeley resolved the phenomena of sen- 
sation into those of reflection ; and the same method 
which in France led to materialism, in England pro- 
duced a system of intellectual idealism. Berkeley's 
principles were pushed to the extreme by Hume, who, 
applying to the phenomena of reflection precisely the 
same analysis which Berkeley applied to those of sen- 
sation, demolished the whole fabric of human know- 



MEMOIR OF F1CHTE. 79 

ledge, and revealed, under the seemingly substantial 
foundations on which men had hitherto built their faith, 
a yawning gulf of impenetrable obscurity and skepti- 
cism. Feeling, thought, nay consciousness itself, be- 
come but fleeting phantasms without any abiding subject 
in which they inhere. 

It may be safely affirmed, that notwithstanding the 
outcry which greeted the publication of the " Essay 
of Human Nature,'' and the senseless virulence which 
still loads the memory of its author with abuse, none of 
his critics have hitherto succeeded in detecting a fallacy 
in his main argument. Those distinguished philoso- 
phers who are generally known by the name of the 
Scotch School, or the School of Common Sense, 
although deserving of all gratitude for their acute inves- 
tigations into the intellectual and moral powers of man, 
have yet confined themselves chiefly to the department 
of psychological analysis, and have thrown little direct 
light on the great difficulties of metaphysical specula- 
tion. This was reserved for the modern school of 
Germany, of which Kant may be considered the head. 
Stewart, although contemporary with the philosopher 
of Konigsberg, seems to have had not only an im- 
perfect, but a quite erroneous conception of his doc- 
trines. 

Kant admitted the validity of Hume's conclusions, 
on the premises from which he deduced them. He 
admitted that the human intellect could not go beyond 
itself, could not furnish us with any other than subjec- 
tive knowledge. The impressions which we receive 
from without, having to pass through the prism of cer- 



SU MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

tain inherent faculties or "categories" of the under- 
standing, by which their original character is modified, 
or perhaps altogether changed, — we are not entitled to 
draw from them any conclusions upon the nature of the 
source whence they emanate. But is the outward 
world, which we are thus forced to abandon to doubt, 
the only reality for man ? Do we not find in conscious- 
ness something more than a cognitive faculty ? We 
find besides, will, freedom, self-determination ; and 
here is a world altogether independent of sense and of 
the knowledge of outward things. Freedom is the root, 
the very ground-work of our being ; free determination 
is the most intimate and certain fact in our nature. But 
to this freedom we find an absolute law addressed, — 
the unconditional law of morality — demanding fulfil- 
ment. Here, then, in the super-sensual world of duty, 
of free obedience, of moral determination, we have 
the true world of man, in which the moral agent is the 
only existence, the moral act the only reality. Be- 
tween the world of sense and the world of morality 
stands the aesthetic world, or the system of relations 
we hold to the outward world through our ideas of the 
beautiful, the sublime, &c. ; — and these three worlds 
exhaust the elements of human consciousness. 

But while Kant, by throwing the bridge of aesthetic 
feeling over the chasm which separates the sensible 
from the purely spiritual world, established an outward 
communication between them, he did not attempt to 
reconcile — he maintained the impossibility of recon- 
ciling — their essential opposition. It is in this re- 
conciliation, — in tracing this opposition to its source, 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 81 

— in the establishment of the unity of the sensual and 
super-sensual worlds, that Fichte's "Wissenchaftslehre" 
follows out and completes the philosophical system of 
which Kant had laid the foundation. In it, for the first 
time, philosophy becomes, not a theory of knowledge, 
but knowledge itself; for in it the apparent division of 
the subject thinking from the object thought of, is 
abolished by penetrating to the primitive unity out of 
which this opposition has arisen. 

The origin of this opposition, and the principle by 
which it is to be reconciled, must be sought for in the 
nature of the thinking subject itself. What is our idea 
of that nature ? We feel ourselves to be acted upon by 
influences from without, and on the other hand to exer- 
cise an influence on things without ; limited ourselves, 
and at the same time the cause of limitation to some- 
thing beyond us. But whence do we derive this double 
conception ? It is not derived ; — it is a part of our- 
selves. Let us try to conceive of our own being apart 
from any other — abstracted from all other existence. 
We cannot do it. The fundamental character of finite 
being is thus the supposition of itself (thesis) ; and 
of something opposed to itself (antithesis) ; which two 
conceptions are reciprocal, mutually imply each other, 
and are hence identical (synthesis.) The Ego supposes 
the Non-Ego, and is supposed in it ; — the two con- 
ceptions are indissoluble ; nay, they are but one con- 
ception. In the different aspects which this double 
conception assumes, we have an endless chain of finite 
and reciprocally active existences, forming together the 
abstract idea of Finity, which again supposes its oppo- 



82 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

site, Infinity. As conceived of by the finite subject, 
the idea of infinity must come under the conditions of 
finite thought, and can thus only be the Highest that 
finite thought can reach — an absolute Ego, in whose 
self-determination all the Non-Ego is determined. 

The aspect of the finite Ego towards the Non-Ego 
is practical ; towards the infinite Ego, speculative. In 
the first relation we find ourselves surrounded by exist- 
ences, over one part of which we exercise causality, 
and with the other (in whom we suppose an independ- 
ent causality) we are in a state of reciprocal influence. 
In these relations the active and moral powers of man 
find their sphere. The moral law imparts to its objects 
— to all things whose existence is implied in its fulfil- 
ment — the same certainty which belongs to itself. 
The outward world cannot be unreal, for we have im- 
perative duties to perform which demand its reality. 
Life ceases to be an empty show without truth or sig- 
nificance ; — it is our field of duty, the theatre on which 
our moral destiny is to be wrought out. The voice of 
conscience, of highest reason, bids us know and love 
and honor beings like ourselves, and those beings crowd 
around us. The ends of their and our existence 
demand the powers and appliances of physical life for 
their attainment; — that life, and the means of sus- 
taining and using it, stand before us. The world is 
nothing more than the sphere and object of human 
activity ; it exists because the purposes of our moral 
life require its existence. Of the law of duty we are 
immediately certain ; of the existence of the world we 
are assured by means of that previous certainty. Our 






MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 83 

life begins with an action, not a thought ; we do not 
act because we know, but we know because we are 
called upon to act. 

But not only does the law of human activity require 
our belief in its immediate objects and implements ; it 
also points to a purpose, an aim, in our actions lying 
beyond themselves, to which they stand related as 
means to an end. Not that the moral law of activity is 
dependent on the perception of this end — the moral 
law is absolute and imperative in itself — but we neces- 
sarily connect with our actions some future result as a 
consequence to which they inevitably tend, as the final 
accomplishment of the purpose which gave them birth. 
The moral sense cannot find such a fulfilment in the 
present life ; — the forces of nature, the desires and 
passions of men constantly oppose its dictates. It re- 
volts against the permanence of things as they now are, 
and unceasingly strives to make them better. Nor 
can the individual look for such an accomplishment of 
the moral law of his nature in the progressive improve- 
ment of his species. Were the highest grade of earthly 
perfection conceived and attained in the physical and 
moral world — (as it is conceivable and attainable) — 
reason would still propose a higher grade beyond it. 
And even this measure of perfection could not be ap- 
propriated by humanity as its own, — as the result of 
its own exertions, — but must be considered as the 
creation of an unknown power, by whose unseen agen- 
cy the basest passions of men, and even their vices and 
crimes, have been made the instruments of this consum- 
mation ; while too often their good resolutions appear 



84 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

altogether lost to the world, or even to retard the pur- 
poses which they were apparently designed to promote. 
The chain of material causes and effects does not de- 
pend on the motives and feelings which prompt an 
action, but solely on the action itself ; and the purposes 
of mere physical existence would be as well, or better, 
promoted by an unerring mechanism, than by the agen- 
cy of free beings. Nevertheless, if moral obedience 
be a reasonable service, it must have its result ; if the 
reason which commands it be not an utterly vain delu- 
sion, its law must be fulfilled. That law is the first 
principle of our nature, and it gives us the assurance, 
our faith in which no difficulty can shake, that no moral 
act can be fruitless, no work of reason utterly lost. A 
chain of causes and effects, in which freedom is super- 
fluous and without aim, cannot thus be the limit of our 
existence ; the law of our being cannot be fulfilled in 
the world of sense ; — there must then be a super-sen- 
sual world in which it may be accomplished. In this 
purely spiritual world, will alone is the first link of a 
chain of consequences which pervades the whole invisi- 
ble realm of being ; as action, in the sensual world, is 
the first link of a material chain which runs through the 
whole system of nature. Will is the active living prin- 
ciple of the super-sensual world ; it may break forth 
in a material act which belongs to the sensual world, 
and do there that which pertains to a material act to 
do ; — but, independently of all physical manifestation, 
it flows forth in endless spiritual activity. Here human 
freedom is untrammeled by earthly obstructions, and 
the moral law of our being may find that accomplishment 
which it sought in vain in the world of sense 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 85 

But although we aTe immediately conscious that our 
will, our moral activity, must lead to consequences 
beyond itself, we yet cannot know what those conse- 
quences may be, nor how they are possible. In re- 
spect of the nature of these results, the present life is, in 
relation to the future, a life in faith. In the future 
life we shall possess these results, for we shall then 
make them the groundwork of new activity, and thus 
the future life will be, in relation to the present, a life 
in sight. But the spiritual world is even now with us, 
for we are already in possession of the principle from 
which it springs. Our will, our free activity, is the 
only attribute which is solely and exclusively our own ; 
and by it we are already citizens of the eternal world ; 
the kingdom of heaven is here, or nowhere — it cannot 
become more immediately present at any point of finite 
existence. This life is the beginning of our being ; the 
outward world is freely given to us as a firm ground on 
which we may commence our course ; the future life is 
its continuance, for which we must ourselves create a 
starting-period in the present ; and should the aim of 
this second life prove as unattainable to finite power, 
as the end of the first is to us now, then the fresh 
strength, the firmer purpose, the clearer sight which 
shall be its immediate growth, will open to us another 
and a higher sphere of activity. But the world of duty 
is an infinite world ; — every finite exertion has but a 
definite aim; — and beyond the highest point toward 
which our laboring being strives, a higher still appears ; 
and to such progression we can conceive no end. By 
7 



O0 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

free determination — in the effort after moral perfec- 
tion, we have laid hold on eternal life. 

In the physical world we see certain phenomena fol- 
lowing each other with undeviating regularity. We 
cannot say that what we name cause has in itself any 
power over that which we call effect. — that there is 
any relation between them except that of invariable 
sequence. We suppose a law under which both sub- 
sist, which regulates the mode of their existence, and 
by the efficiency of which the order of their succession 
is determined. So likewise, in the spiritual world, we 
entertain the firmest conviction that our moral will is 
connected with certain consequences, though we can- 
not understand how mere will can of itself produce such 
consequences. We here again conceive of a law under 
which our will, and the will of all finite beings, exists, 
in virtue of which it is followed by certain results, and 
out of which all our relations with other beings arise. 
So far as our will is simply an internal act, complete in 
itself, it lies wholly within our own power ; — so far as 
it is a fact in the super-sensual world — the first of a 
train of spiritual consequences, it is not dependent on 
ourselves, but on the law which governs the super- 
sensual world. But the super-sensual world is a world 
of freedom, of living activity ; its principle cannot be a 
mechanical force, but must itself possess this freedom 
— this living activity. It can be nothing else than self- 
determining reason. But self-determining reason is 
will. The law of the super-sensual world must thus be 
a Will : — a will operating without material implement 
or manifestation ; which is in itself both act and pro- 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 87 

duct — which is eternal and unchangeable ; so that on 
it finite beings may securely rely, as the physical man 
does on the laws of his world, — that through it, all 
their moral acts of will, and these only, shall lead to 
certain and unfailing results. In this Living Will, as 
the principle of the spiritual world, has our moral will 
its first consequence, and through Him its energy is 
propagated throughout the series of finite beings who 
are the products of the Infinite Will. He is the spirit- 
ual bond which unites all free beings together : not im- 
mediately can they know or influence each other, for 
they are separated from each other by an impassable 
barrier ; — their mutual knowledge comes through Him 
alone, to whom all are equally related. Our faith in 
duty, and in the objects of duty, is only faith in Him, 
in His wisdom, in His truth. He is thus the creator 
and sustainer of all things, for in Him alone all the 
thronging forms which people our dream of life, " live 
and move and have their being." All partake His 
essence : — material nature disappears, but its images 
are invested with a new reality. All our life is His 
life ; and we are eternal, for He is eternal. Birth and 
the grave are no more, but, in their stead, undying 
energy and immortal youth. Of Him — the Infinite 
One, — of the mode of His being, we know nothing, 
nor need we to know ; we cannot pierce the inaccessi- 
ble light in which he dwells, but through the shadows 
which veil His presence from us, an endless stream of 
life and power and action flows around and about us, 
bearing us and all finite things onward to new life and 
love and beauty. 



88 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

" The One remains, the many change and pass ; 
Heaven's light for ever shines; Earth's shadows fly ; 
Life, like a dome of many-colored glass, 
Stains the white radiance of Eternity, 
Until Death tramples it to fragments." 

All death in nature is birth, — the assumption of a new 
garment, to replace the old vesture which humanity has 
laid aside in its progress to higher being. And serene 
above all change, the unattainable object of all finite 
effort — fountain of our life — home of our spirits, — 
Thou art — the One Being, — the I AM, — for whom 
reason has no idea, and language no name. 

" Sublime and living Will, named by no name, com- 
passed by no thought, I may raise my soul to Thee, 
for Thou and I are not divided. Thy voice is heard 
within me, mine is heard by Thee, and all my thoughts, 
if they are good and true, live in Thee alone. In Thee, 
the Incomprehensible, I myself, and the world in which 
I live, stand clear before me ; all the secrets of my 
existence are laid open, and perfect harmony arises in 
my soul. 

" Thou art best known to the childlike, devoted, 
simple heart. To it Thou art the searcher of all hearts, 
who seest the minds of men ; the ever-present true 
witness of their thoughts, who knowest if they are good, 
who knowest them though all the world know them not. 
Thou art the Father who ever desirest their good, who 
rulest all things for the best. To Thy will they resign 
themselves^: ' Do with me,' they say, ' what Thou 
wilt ; I know that it is good, for it is Thou who doest 
it.' The inquisitive understanding, which has heard 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 89 

of Thee, but seen Thee not, would teach us Thy 
nature, and, as Thy image, shows us a monstrous 
and incongruous shape, which the sagacious laugh at, 
and the wise and good abhor. 

" I hide my face before Thee, and lay my hand upon 
my mouth. How Thou art, and seemest to thine own 
being, I can never know, any more than I can assume 
Thy nature. After thousands upon thousands of spirit- 
lives, I shall comprehend Thee as little as I do now in 
this earthly house. That which I conceive, becomes 
finite through my very conception of it, and this can 
never, even by endless exaltation, rise into the infinite. 
Thou differest from men, not in degree but in nature. 
In every stage of their advancement they think of Thee 
as a greater man, and still a greater, but never as God 

— the Infinite, — whom no measure can mete. I have 
only this discursive, progressive thought, and I can 
conceive of no other. How can I venture to ascribe 
it to Thee ? In the idea of person there are imperfec- 
tions, limitations. How can I clothe Thee with it 
without these ? 

" I will not attempt that which the imperfection of 
my nature forbids, and which would be useless to me : 

— hoio Thou art, I may not know. But Thy relations 
to me — the mortal — and to all mortals, lie open be- 
fore my eyes, were I only what I should be ; — they 
surround me as clearly as the consciousness of my own 
existence. Thou ivorkest in me the knowledge of my 
duty, of my vocation in the world of reasonable beings : 

— how, I know not, nor need I to know. Thou 
knowest what I think and what I will : — how Thou 

7* 



90 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

canst know, through what act Thou bringest about that 
consciousness, I cannot understand, — nay, I know 
that the idea of an act, of a particular act of conscious- 
ness, belongs to me alone, and not to Thee. Thou 
wiliest that my free obedience shall bring with it eternal 
consequences : — the act of Thy will I cannot compre- 
hend — I only know that it is not like mine. Thou 
doest, and Thy will itself is the deed ; but the way of 
Thy working is not as my ways — I cannot trace it. 
Thou livest and art, for Thou knowest and wili- 
est and workest, omnipresent to finite reason ; but 
Thou art not as / now and always must conceive of 
being." * 

Such is a very broken and imperfect outline of the 
most complete system of transcendental idealism ever 
offered to the world. To those few among British 
students, who, amid the prevailing degradation of senti- 
ment and frivolity of thought, have pondered the deep 
mysteries of being until the common logic, which pre- 
tends to grasp its secret, seems a vain and presumptu- 
ous trifling with questions which lie far beyond its 
reach, and who find in the theological solution but a 
dry and worthless husk which conceals the kernel of 
truth it was only meant to preserve, — to such it may 

* Bestimmung des Menschen, Book iii. — This is the most popu- 
lar exposition of Fichte's philosophy which exists, and from it the 
substance of the preceding abstract has been taken. It was first 
published in 1799, at Berlin. A complete and uniform edition of 
Fichte's works is at present (1845) in course of publication, under 
the superintendence of his son. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 91 

be no unacceptable service to have pointed the way to 
a modern Academe, where the moral dignity of the 
Athenian sage is united with the poetic sublimity and 
intellectual keenness of his two most distinguished pu- 
pils. If by such humble guidance any should be in- 
duced to turn aside towards that retreat, let them not 
be deterred if at first the path should seem to lack 
something of the smoothness of the well-trodden high- 
way on which they have hitherto travelled ; — let them 
proceed courageously ; — it will lead them into calm 
sunshine, and beside clear and refreshing streams; — 
nor shall they return thence without nobler thoughts 
and higher aspirations. 

Fichte lived in close retirement in Zurich. The 
manners of the inhabitants did not please him, and he 
seldom came out into society. His wife, his father-in- 
law, Lavater, and a few others, composed his circle. 
It is pleasing to know that the celebrated and venerable 
preacher preserved, even in advanced age, a keen relish 
for new truth — a perfect openness of mind not fre- 
quently met with in his profession. At his request 
Fichte prepared a short course of lectures, by which his 
friends might be introduced to an acquaintance with the 
Critical Philosophy, the fame of which had now reached 
Switzerland. At the conclusion of the lectures, Lava- 
ter addressed a letter of thanks to his young instructor, 
full of expressions of gratitude and esteem, in which he 
styles himself his "pupil, friend, and fellow-man." 
Up to the period of his death, this excellent man 
retained the warmest feelings of friendship towards the 



92 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

philosopher; — and the following lines, written some 
years after Fichte's departure from Zurich, whatever 
may be their value in other respects, serve at least 
to show the respect, almost approaching to reverence, 
with which Fichte was regarded by one who was himself 
no ordinary man : — 

" 29enlt?efletiacj) mefnem 5Totre, an 'Mnxn professor jFfc&te— 1800. 

" Unerreichbarer Denkner, Dein Daseyn beweist mir das Daseyn 
Eines ewigen Geistes, dem hohe Geister entstrahlen ! 
Konntest je Du zweifeln: ich stellte Dich selbst vor Dich selbst nur; 
Zeigte Dir in Dir selbst den Strahl des ewigen Geistes." 

Although Fichte had as yet published nothing to 
which his name was attached, he had nevertheless 
acquired an extensive philosophical reputation. In 
several powerful and searching criticisms which appear- 
ed in the u Allgemeine Literatur Zeitung," the hand 
of the author of the " Critique of Revelation" was 
discovered. He was now generally looked upon as 
the man who was destined to complete the philosophy 
of Kant. He was thus led into literary correspondence 
with some of the most distinguished men of the day. 
At the head of these must be placed Reinhold, the pro- 
fessor of philosophy at Jena, who had hitherto stood 
first among the disciples of Kant. The relation be- 
tween these two celebrated men was a most remarka- 
ble one. Although their characters were very different, 
although they never saw each other, they lived on terms 
of the most intimate and trustful confidence, such as is 
commonly attained by long-tried friendship alone. In 
their extensive correspondence, Fitchte's powerful and 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 93 

commanding intellect evidently possesses great ascend- 
ency over the more diffident and pliable nature of Rein- 
hold ; but his influence never interferes with the mental 
freedom of his friend. On the other hand, Reinhold's 
open and enthusiastic character, and his pure love of 
truth, engaged the warm affection and sympathy of his 
more daring correspondent ; — while the frequent mis- 
understandings, which lend an almost dramatic interest 
to their letters, afford room for the exhibition of manly 
and generous kindness in both. In 1797 Reinhold 
abandoned his own system and accepted the " Wissen- 
schaftslehre," announcing the change to Fichte in the 
following terms : — 

u I have at length come to understand your c Wis- 
senschaftslehre,' or what is the same thing to me — 
philosophy without nickname. It now stands before 
me as a perfect whole, founded on itself — the pure 
conception of self-conscious reason, — the mirror of 
our better selves. Individual parts are still obscure to 
me, but they cannot now deprive me of my compre- 
hension of the whole ; and their number is every day 
diminishing. Beside it lie the ruins of the edifice 
which cost me so much time and labor, in which I 
thought to dwell so securely and commodiously, to en- 
tertain so many guests, — in which I laughed, not with- 
out self-gratulation, over so many Kantists who mistook 
the scaffolding for the house itself. This catastrophe 
would have caused me much pain for a time, if it had 
happened by the hand of skepticism." 

" Adieu ! I salute you with deepest gratitude. Is 
personal intercourse absolutely necessary to the growth 



94 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



of friendship ? I doubt it. For indeed it is not mere 
gratitude, not mere reverence, — it is heartfelt love that 
I feel for you, since I now, through your philosophy, 
understand yourself." 

In Pichte's literary correspondence from Zurich we 
find the first intimations of his departure from the sys- 
tem of Kant, and his plan of a complete and compre- 
hensive philosophy. He could not rest satisfied with 
results alone, unless he could perceive the grounds on 
which they rested. His reason imperatively demanded 
absolute unity of conception, without separation, with- 
out division, — above all, without opposition; Writing 
to Niethammer, in October 1793, he says — " My con- 
viction is that Kant has only indicated the truth, but 
neither unfolded nor proved it. This singular man 
either has a power of divining truth, without being him- 
self conscious of the grounds on which it rests ; or he 
has not esteemed his age worthy of the communication 
of those grounds ; or he has shrunk from attracting that 
superhuman reverence during his life, which sooner or 
later must be his in some degree." And as the great 
idea of his own system dawned upon his mind, he says 
to Stephani — "I have discovered a new principle, 
from which all philosophy can easily be deduced. . . 
In a couple of years we shall have a philosophy with 
all the clearness of geometrical evidence." — To the 
development of this scheme he now devoted all the en- 
ergies of his powerful intellect. He refused an invita- 
tion to become tutor to the Prince of Mecklenberg- 
Strelitz : — " I desire," he says, " nothing but leisure 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 95 

to execute my plan, - — then fortune may do with me 
what it will." 

But his studies were soon broken in upon by a call 
of another and more important nature. This was his 
appointment as Professor Super numerarius of Philoso- 
phy at the University of Jena, in room of Reinhold, 
who removed to Kiel. The distinguished honor of this 
invitation, unasked and unexpected as it was, and the 
extensive field of usefulness which it opened to him, 
determined Fichte at once to accept it. He endeavor- 
ed to obtain a postponement of the period for com- 
mencing his duties, which had been fixed for Easter, 
1794, in order that, by the more complete elaboration 
of the principle which he had discovered, he might be 
able to elevate his philosophy at once to the rank of a 
positive science. For this purpose he requested a 
year's delay. But as it was considered that the inter- 
est of the University would be prejudiced by the chair 
remaining so long vacant, his request was refused, — 
with permission, however, to devote the greater part of 
his time, during the first year, to study. He therefore 
sent an unconditional acceptance, and plunged at once 
into the most arduous preparations for his new duties. 

Weimar and its neighboring University was at this 
time the focus of German literature and learning. The 
Grand Duke Charles Augustus had gathered around 
him the most distinguished men of his age, and Wieland, 
Herder, Goethe, Schiller and Humboldt, shed a more 
than Medicean lustre upon the little Saxon Court. 
Probably at no other time was so much high genius, 



96 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

engaged in every department of mental exertion, gath- 
ered together in one spot. The University, too, was 
the most numerously frequented of any in Germany, 
not by the youth of Saxony alone, but by students from 
almost every part of Europe : Switzerland, Denmark, 
Poland, Hungary, the free cities, and even France, 
sent their sons to Jena for education. The brilliant 
intellectual circle at Weimar presented to the cultivated 
mind attractions which could be found nowhere else, 
whilst at Jena the academic teacher found a most ex- 
tensive and honorable field for the exercise of his pow- 
ers. It was to this busy scene of mental activity that 
Fichte was called from his Swiss retreat, — to the so- 
ciety of the greatest living men, — to the instruction 
of this thronging crowd from all surrounding nations. 
Previous to his own appearance, he published, as a pro- 
gramme of his lectures, the u Begriff der Wissen- 
schaftslehre oder der Sogenannten Philosophie." His 
reputation, and the bold originality of his system, drew 
universal attention. Expectation was strained to the 
utmost ; so that those who had marked the rapid growth 
of his fame, had great apparent reason to fear that it 
might prove short-lived. But notwithstanding the short- 
ness of the time allowed him for preparation, he entered 
upon his course with a clear perception of the task that 
lay before him, and confident reliance on his own power 
to fulfil the duties to which he was called. 

He arrived at Jena on the ] 8th of May, 1794, and 
was received with great kindness by his colleagues at 
the University. On the :23d he delivered his first lec- 
ture. The largest hall in Jena, although crowded to 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 97 

the roof, proved insufficient to contain the audience. 
His singular and commanding address, his fervid, fiery 
eloquence, the rich profusion of his thoughts, following 
each other in the most convincing sequence, and mod- 
elled with the sharpest precision, astonished and de- 
lighted his hearers. His triumph was complete ; — he 
left the Hall the most popular Professor of the greatest 
University in Germany. The following acute and 
graphic remarks on this subject, from Forberg's " Frag- 
menten aus meinen Papieren," afford us some glimpse 
of the opinions entertained of him by his contempora- 
ries at Jena : — 

"Jena, \2th May, 1794. 

11 I look with great confidence to Fichte, who is 
daily expected here. But I would have had still greater 
confidence in him if he had written the c Kritik der 
Offenbarung ' twenty years later. A young man who 
ventures to write a masterpiece must commonly suffer 
for it. He is what he is, and he will not be what he 
might have been. He has spent his strength too soon, 
and his later fruits will at least want ripeness. A great 
mind has no merit if it does not possess sufficient resig- 
nation not to appear great for a time, that thereby it may 
become greater. If a man cannot sacrifice a dozen 
years' fame as an offering to truth, what else can he lay 
upon her altar ? I believe that Reinhold's theory has 
done much injury to the study of the Kantean philoso- 
phy, but that is nothing to the injury it has done to the 
author himself. His philosophy is finished for this 
world, — nothing more is to be expected from him but 
polemics and reminiscences. Fichte is not here yet, — 
8 



98 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



but I am eager to know whether he has anything still 
to learn. It would be almost a wonder if he has, con- 
sidering the incense that they burn before him. Oh ! 
there is nothing so easily unlearned as the power of 
learning." 

" 1th December, 1794. 

" Since Reinhold has left us, his philosophy (with 
us at least) has expired. Every trace of the <c Phi- 
losophy without nickname " has vanished from among 
the students. Fichte is believed in, as Reinhold never 
was believed in. They understand him indeed even 
less than they did his predecessor ; but they believe all 
the more obstinately on that account. Ego and Non- 
Ego are now the symbols of the philosophers of yes- 
terday, as substance and form were formerly. 

" Fichte's philosophy is, so to speak, more philo- 
sophical than Reinhold's. You hear him going digging 
and seeking after truth. In rough masses he brings it 
forth from the deep, and throws it from him. He does 
not say what he will do ; he does it. Reinhold's doc- 
trine was rather an announcement of a philosophy, than 
a philosophy itself. He has never fulfilled his prom- 
ises. Not unfrequently[did he give forth the promise 
for the fulfilment. He never will fulfil them, — for he 
is now past away. Fichte seems really determined to 
work upon the world through his philosophy. The 
tendency to restless activity which dwells in the breast 
of every noble youth, he would carefully nourish and 
cultivate, that it may in due season bring forth fruit. 
He seizes every opportunity of teaching that action, 
action, is the vocation of man ; whereby it is only to 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 99 

be feared that the majority of young men who lay the 
maxim to heart, may look upon this summons to action 
as only a summons to demolition. And, strictly speak- 
ing, the principle is false. Man is not called upon to 
act, but to act justly ; if he cannot act without acting 
unjustly, he should remain inactive. 

" Every reader of Kant or Fichte is seized by a 
deep feeling of the superiority of these mighty minds ; 
who wrestle with their subjects, as it were, to grind 
them to powder ; w T ho seem to say all that they do say 
to us, only that we may conjecture how much more 
they could say. 

" All the truth that J has written is not worth a 

tenth part of the false which Fichte may have written. 
The one gives me a small number of known truths ; 
the other gives me perhaps one truth, but in doing so, 
opens before me the prospect of an infinity of unknown 
truths 

" It is certain that in Fichte's philosophy there is 
quite a different spirit from that which pervades the phi- 
losophy of his predecessor. The spirit of the latter is 
a weak, fearful spirit, which timidly includes wide, nar- 
row, and narrowest shades of meaning between the 
hedges and fences of a ' to some extent' — and 'in 
so far ; ' a weak, exhausted spirit, which conceals 
(and ill-conceals) its poverty of thought behind the 
mantle of scholastic phraseology, and whose philoso- 
phy is form without substance, a skeleton without flesh 
and blood, body without life, promise without fulfilment. 
But the spirit of Fichte's philosophy is a proud and 
bold spirit, for which the domain of human knowledge, 



100 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

even in its widest extent, is too narrow ; which opens 
up new paths with every step it takes ; which struggles 
with language in order to wrest from it words enough 
for its wealth of thought ; which does not lead us, but 
seizes us and hurries us along, and whose finger cannot 
touch an object without bruising it to dust. But that 
which especially gives Fichte's philosophy quite another 
interest from that of Reinhold, is this, — that in all his 
inquiries there is a motion, a struggle, an effort, thor- 
oughly to solve the hardest problems of reason. His 
predecessor never appeared to suspect the existence of 
these problems — to say nothing of their solution. 
Fichte's philosophemes are inquiries in which we see 
the truth before our eyes, and thus they produce know- 
ledge and conviction. Reinhold's philosophemes are 
exhibitions of results, the production of which goes on 
behind the scenes. We may believe, but we cannot 

know ! 

" The fundamental element of Fichte's character is 
the highest honesty. Such a character commonly knows 
little of delicacy and refinement. In his writings we do 
not meet with much that is particularly beautiful ; his 
best passages are always distinguished by greatness and 
strength. He does not say fine things, but all his words 
have force and weight. He wants the amiable, kind, 
attractive, accommodating spirit of Reinhold. His 
principles are severe, and not much softened by hu- 
manity. Nevertheless he suffers what Reinhold could 
not suffer — contradiction ; and understands what Rein- 
hold could not understand — a joke. His superiority 
is not felt to be so humiliating as that of Reinhold ; but 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 10 1 

if he is called forth, he is terrible. His is a restless 
spirit, thirsting for opportunity to do great things in the 
world. 

" Fichte's public delivery does not flow on smoothly, 
sweetly, and softly, as Reinhold's did ; it rushes along 
like a tempest, discharging its fire in separate masses. 
He does not move the soul as Reinhold did — he 
rouses it. The one seemed as if he would make men 
good — the other would make them great. Reinhold's 
face was mildness, and his form was majesty ; Fichte's 
eye is threatening, and his step daring and defiant. 
Reinhold's philosophy was an endless polemic against 
Kantists and Anti-Kantists ; Fichte, with his, desires 
to lead the spirit of the age ; he knows its weak side, 
and therefore he addresses it on the side of politics. 
He possesses more readiness, more acuteness, more 
penetration, more genius, — in short, more spiritual 
power than Reinhold. His fancy is not flowing, but 
it is energetic and mighty ; — his pictures are not 
charming, but they are bold and massive. He pen- 
etrates to the innermost depths of his subject, and 
moves about in the ideal world with an ease and confi- 
dence which proclaim that he not only dwells in that 
invisible land, but rules there."* 

* The following graphic sketch of Fichte's personal appearance and 
manner of delivery, is taken from the Autobiography of Henry Stef- 
fens. Although it refers to a later period of his life, it is thought 
most appropriate to introduce it here : — 

"Fichte appeared, to deliver his introductory lecture on the 
Destination of Man. This short, strong-built man, with sharp, 
commanding features, made, I must confess, a most imposing ap- 
pearance, as 1 then saw him for the first time. Even his language 
8* 



102 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

Doubts were entertained, even before Fichte's arrival 
at Jena, that his ardent and active spirit might lead him 
to use the influence he should acquire over the students 
for the furtherance of political projects. His supposed 
democratic opinions were even made a ground of ob- 
jection to his appointment. And it cannot be affirmed 
that such anticipations were improbable ; for certainly 
the tendency of his own character, and the peculiar 
circumstances of the age, presented strong temptations 
to convert the chair of the professor into the pulpit of 
the practical philanthropist. He himself says that he 
was assailed by not a few such temptations, and even 
invitations, at the beginning of his residence at Jena, 
but that he resolutely cast them from him. He was 

had a cutting sharpness. Well acquainted with the metaphysical 
incapacity of his hearers, he took the greatest possible pains fully 
to demonstrate his propositions; but there was an air of authori- 
tativeness in his discourse, as if he would remove all doubts by 
mere word of command. 'Gentlemen,' said he, ' collect your- 
selves — go into yourselves — for we have here nothing to do with 
things without, but simply with the inner self.' Thus summoned, 
the auditors appeared really to go into themselves. Some, to fa- 
cilitate the operation, changed their position, and stood up; some 
drew themselves together, and cast their eyes upon the floor : all 
were evidently waiting under high excitement for what was to 
follow this preparatory summons. ' Gentlemen,' continued Fichte, 
'think the wall' — (Denken Sie die Wand.) This was a task to 
which the hearers were evidently all equal; they thought the 
wall. ' Have you thought the wall ? ' asked Fichte. ' Well then, 
gentlemen, think him who thought the wall.' It was curious to 
see the evident confusion and embarrassment that now arose. 
Many of his audience seemed to be utterly unable anywhere to 
find him who had thought the wall. — Fichte's delivery was ex- 
cellent, being marked throughout by clearness and precision." 



I 

MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 103 

not one of those utilitarian philosophers, who willingly 
sacrifice high and enduring good to the attainment of 
some partial and temporary purpose. His idea of the 
vocation of an academical teacher (set forth at large in 
the ninth lecture, on the Nature of the Scholar, 
and its Manifestations), opened to him another field 
of duty, superior to that of direct political activ- 
ity. In all his intercourse with his pupils, public 
or private, his sole object was the development and 
cultivation of their moral and intellectual powers. No 
trace can be found of any attempt to lead his hearers 
upon the stage of actual life, while the opposition be- 
tween the speculative and practical sides of their nature 
still existed. To reconcile this opposition was the 
great object of his philosophy. In his hands, philos- 
ophy was no longer speculation, but knowledge — (it 
was soon divested even of its scholastic terminology, 
and the Ego, Non-Ego, &c, entirely laid aside), — 
the expression of the profoundest thoughts of man on 
himself, the world, and God ; — while, on the other 
hand, morality was no preceptive legislation, but the 
natural development of the active principle of our 
own being, indissolubly bound up with, and indeed the 
essential root of, its intellectual aspect. Binding to- 
gether into a common unity every mode and manifesta- 
tion of our nature, his philosophy is capable of the 
widest application, and of an almost infinite variety of 
expression ; while in the ceaseless elevation of our whole 
being to higher grades of nobility and greatness, is found 
at once its intellectual supremacy and its moral power. 
So far indeed was Fichte from lending his counte- 



I 

104 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

nance to political combination among the students, or 
inculcating any sentiments subversive of the existing 
arrangements of society, — that no one suffered more 
than he did, from the clergy on the one hand, and the 
students on the other, in the attempt to maintain good 
order in the University. The unions known by the 
name of Landsmannschaften existed at that time in the 
German schools of learning as they do now, but their 
proceedings were then marked by much greater turbu- 
lence and license than they are at the present day. 
Riots of the most violent description were of common 
occurrence ; houses were broken into, and robbed of 
their contents, to supply the marauders with the means 
of sensual indulgence. The arm of the law was im- 
potent to restrain these excesses ; and so bold had the 
unionists become, that upon one occasion, when the 
house of a professor had been ransacked, five hundred 
students openly demanded from the Duke an amnesty 
for the offence. Efforts had been made at various 
times, by the academical authorities, to suppress these 
societies, but the students only broke out into more 
frightful excesses when any attempt was made to re- 
strain their " Burschen-rights," or u Academical free- 
dom." In the hope of effecting some reformation of 
manners in the University, Fichte commenced, soon 
after his arrival at Jena, a course of public lectures on 
academical morality. Some of these were afterwards 
published under the title of " Lectures on the destiny 
of the Scholar." These lectures, and his own per- 
sonal influence among the students, were attended with 
the happiest effects. The three orders which then 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 105 

existed at Jena expressed their willingness to dissolve 
their union, on condition of the past being forgotten. 
They delivered over to Fichte the books and papers of 
their society, for the purpose of being destroyed as 
soon as he could effect their peace with the Court at 
Weimar, and receive a commission to administer to 
ihem the oath of renunciation, which they would re- 
ceive from no one but himself. After some delay, 
caused in part by the authorities of the University, who 
seem to have been jealous of the success with which 
an individual professor had accomplished, without as- 
sistance, what they had in vain endeavored to effect by 
threatenings and punishment, the desired arrangements 
were effected, and the commission arrived. But in 
consequence of some doubts to which this delay had 
given rise, one of the three orders drew back from 
the engagement, and turned with great virulence against 
Fichte, whom they suspected of deceiving them. 

Encouraged, however, by the success which had 
attended his efforts with the two other orders, Fichte 
determined to pursue the same course during the winter 
session of 1794, and to deliver another series of public 
lectures, calculated to rouse and sustain a spirit of 
honor and morality among the students. Thoroughly 
to accomplish his purpose, it was necessary that these 
lectures should take place at an hour not devoted to 
any other course, so that he might assemble an audience 
from among all the different classes. But he found that 
every hour from 8 a. m. to 7 p. m. was already occu- 
pied by lectures on important branches of knowledge. 
No way seemed open to him but to deliver his moral 



106 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

discourses on Sundays. Before adopting this plan, 
however, he made diligent inquiries whether any law, 
either of the State or of the University, forbade such 
a proceeding. Discovering no such prohibition, he 
examined into the practice ojf other Universities, and 
found many precedents to justify Sunday-lectures — 
particularly a course of a similar nature delivered by 
Gellert at Berlin. He finally asked the opinion of 
some of the oldest professors, none of whom could 
see any objection to his proposal, provided he did not 
encroach upon the time devoted to divine service ; — 
Schiitz remarking, " If plays are allowed on Sunday, 
why not moral lectures ? " The hour of divine ser- 
vice in the University was 11 a. m. Fichte therefore 
fixed upon nine in the morning as his hour of lecture, 
and commenced his course with most favorable pros- 
pects. A large concourse of students from all the 
different classes thronged his hall, and several of the 
professors, who took their places among the audience, 
willingly acknowledged the benefit which they derived 
from his discourses. But he soon discovered that the 
best intentions and the most prudent conduct are no 
protection against calumny. A political print, which 
had attained an unenviable notoriety for anonymous 
slander, and had distinguished itself by crawling syco- 
phancy towards power, now exhibited its far-seeing 
sagacity, by tracing the intimate connection between 
the Sunday-lectures and the French Revolution, and 
proclaimed the former to be a " formal attempt to 
overturn the public religious services of Christianity, 
and to erect the worship of Reason in their stead ! " 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 107 

Strange to tell, the Consistory of Jena saw it to be 
their duty to forward a complaint on this subject to the 
High-Consistory at Weimar ; and finally an assembly, 
in which a Herder sat, lodged an accusation before the 
Duke and Privy-council against Professor Fichte, for 
11 a deliberate attempt against the public religious ser- 
vices of the country." Fichte was directed to suspend 
his lectures in the meantime, until inquiry could be 
made. He immediately met the accusation with a 
powerful defence, in which he indignantly hurls back 
the charge, completely demolishing, by a simple narra- 
tive of the real facts, every vestige of argument by 
which it could be supported ; and takes occasion to 
make the Government acquainted with his projects for 
the moral improvement of the students. The judgment 
of the Duke is dated 25th January, 1795, and by it 
Fichte " is freely acquitted of the utterly groundless 
suspicion which had been attached to him," and confi- 
dence is expressed, " that in his future proceedings, 
he will exhibit such wisdom and prudence as shall 
entitle him to the continued good opinion " of the 
Prince. Permission was given him to resume his 
Sunday-lectures, avoiding the hours of divine service. 

But in the meantime, the outrageous proceedings of 
the party of the students which was opposed to him, 
rendered it impossible for him to entertain any hope of 
conciliating them, and soon made his residence at Jena 
uncomfortable, and even dangerous. His wife was 
insulted upon the public street, and both his person 
and property subjected to repeated outrages. He 
applied to the Senate of the University for protection, 



108 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

but was informed that the treatment he received was 
the result of his interference in the affairs of the Orders 
upon the authority of the State, and without the coop- 
eration of the Senate ; that they could do nothing more 
than authorize self-defence in case of necessity ; and 
that if he desired more protection than the Academy 
could give him, he might apply to his friends at Court. 
At last, when at the termination of the winter session 
an attack was made upon his house in the middle of the 
night, in which his venerable father-in-law narrowly 
escaped with life, Fichte applied to the Duke for per- 
mission to leave Jena. This was granted, and he took 
up his residence during the summer at the village of 
Osmanstadt, about two miles from Weimar. 

In delightful contrast to the stormy character of his 
public life at this time, stands the peaceful simplicity of 
his domestic relations. In consequence of the sud- 
denness of his removal from Zurich, his wife did not 
accompany him at the time, but joined him a few 
months afterwards. And her venerable father, too, 
had been persuaded by his love for his children, to 
leave his native land, and take up his residence with 
them at Jena. This excellent old man was the object 
of Fichte's deepest respect and attachment, and his 
declining years were watched with all the anxiety of 
filial tenderness. He died on the 29th of September, 
1795, at the age of 76. His remains were accompa- 
nied to the grave by Fichte's pupils, as a mark of 
respect for their teacher's grief, and a simple monu- 
ment records the affectionate reverence of those he left 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 109 

behind bim. In pure and unbroken attachment, Fichte 
and his wife partook the calm joys of domestic felicity, 
and at a later period the smile of childhood added a 
new charm to their home. A son who was born at 
Jena was their only child.* 

Fichte's intercourse with the eminent men who adorned 
this brilliant period of German literary history was ex- 
tensive and important. Preeminent among these stands 
Goethe, in many respects a remarkable contrast to the 
philosopher. The one, calm, sarcastic, and oracular ; 
the other, restless, enthusiastic, impetuously eloquent ; 
— the one, looking on men only to scan and compre- 
hend them ; the other, waging ceaseless war with their 
vices, their ignorance, their unworthiness ; — the one, 
seating himself on a chilling elevation above human sym- 
pathy, and even exerting all the energies of his mighty 
intellect, to veil the traces of every feeling which bound 
him to his fellow-men ; the other, from an eminence 
no less exalted, pouring around him a rushing tide 
of moral power over his friends, his country, and the 
world. To the one, men looked up with a painful and 
hopeless sense of inferiority ; they crowded around the 
other to participate in his wisdom, and to grow strong 
in gazing on his Titanic might. And even now, when 
a common destiny has laid the proud gray column in 
the dust, and stayed the giant's arm from working, we 
look upon the majesty of the one with astonishment 
rather than reverence, while at the memory of the 

* Now Professor of Philosophy in the University of Tubingen. 
9 



110 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



other, the pulse of hope beats more vigorously than 
before, and the tear of patriotism falls heavily on his 
grave. 

Goethe welcomed the Wissenschaftslehre with his 
usual avidity for new acquisitions. The bold attempt 
to infuse a living spirit into philosophical formulas, and 
give reality to speculative abstractions, roused his at- 
tention. He requested that it might be sent to him, 
sheet by sheet, as it went through the press. This was 
accordingly done, and the following passage from a 
letter to Fichte will show that he was not disappointed 
in the expectations he had formed of it : — 

u What you have sent me contains nothing which I 
do not understand, or at least believe that I under- 
stand ; — nothing that does not readily harmonize with 
my accustomed way of thinking ; and I see the hopes 
which I had derived from the introduction already ful- 
filled. 

"In my opinion, you will confer a priceless benefit 
on the human race, and make every thinking man your 
debtor, by giving a scientific foundation to that upon 
which nature seems long ago to have quietly agreed 
with herself. For myself, I shall owe you my best 
thanks if you reconcile me to the philosophers, whom 
I cannot do without, and with whom, notwithstanding, 
I never could unite. 

" I look with anxiety for the continuation of your 
work to adjust and confirm many things for me, and I 
hope, when you are free from urgent engagements, to 
speak with with you about several matters, the prose- 
cution of which I defer until I clearly understand how 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. Ill 

that which I hope to accomplish may harmonize with 
what we have to expect from you." 

The persoual intercourse of these two great men 
seems to have been characterized by mutual respect 
and esteem, without any approach to intimacy. Of one 
interview Fichte says — " He was politeness, friendship 
itself; he showed me unusual attention." But no cor- 
respondence was maintained between them after Fichte 
left Jena, in consequence of the proceedings which led 
to his departure. 

Of a more enduring nature was his intimacy with 
Jacobi. It commenced in a literary correspondence 
soon after his arrival at Jena. Entertaining a deep 
respect for this distinguished man, derived solely from 
the study of his works, Fichte sent him a copy of the 
Wissenschaftslehre, with a request that he would com- 
municate his opinion of the system it contained. In a 
long and interesting correspondence, extending over 
many years, the points of opposition between them 
were canvassed ; and although a radical difference in 
mental constitution prevented them from ever thinking 
altogether alike, yet it did not prevent them from culti- 
vating a warm and steadfast friendship, which continued 
unbroken amid vicissitudes by which other attachments 
were sorely tried. 

Fichte had formed an acquaintance with Schiller at 
Tubingen, when on his journey to Jena. Schiller's 
enthusiastic nature assimilated more closely to that of 
Fichte than did the disposition of the other great poet 
of Germany, and a cordial intimacy sprang up between 
them. Fichte was a contributor to the Horen from its 



112 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

commencement — a journal which Schiller began soon 
after Fichte's arrival at Jena. This gave rise to 
a singular, but short-lived misunderstanding between 
them. A paper, entitled cc Briefe iiber Geist und 
Buchstaben in der Philosophic," had been sent by 
Fichte for insertion in the Horen. Judging from the 
commencement alone, Schiller conceived it to be an 
imitation, or still worse, a parody of his cc Briefe iiber 
die iEslhetische Erziehung des Menschen," and, easily 
excited as he was, demanded with some bitterness that 
it should be re-written. Fichte did not justify himself 
by producing the continuation of the article, but re- 
ferred the accusation of parody to the arbitration of 
Goethe and Humboldt. Schiller was convinced of his 
error, and soon apologized for it, but Fichte did not 
return the essay, and it appeared afterwards in the Phi- 
losophical Journal. After this slight misunderstanding, 
they continued upon terms of confidence and friend- 
ship, and, towards the close of his life, Schiller became 
a zealous student of the Wissenschaftslehre. 

Fichte likewise carried on an extensive correspon- 
dence with Reinhold (who has already been men- 
tioned), Schelling, W. von Humboldt, Schaumann, 
Paulus, Schmidt, the Schlegels, Novalis, Tieck, Wolt- 
mann, besides a host of minor writers, so that his influ- 
ence extended throughout the whole literary world of 
Germany at that period. 

Fichte has been accused of asperity and superci- 
liousness towards his literary opponents. It may easily 
be conceived, that, occupying a point of view altogether 
different from theirs, his philosophy should appear to 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 113 

him entirely untouched by objections to which they 
attached great weight. Nor is it surprising that he 
should choose rather to proceed with the development 
of his own system from his own principles, than to 
place himself in the mental position of other men, and 
combat their arguments upon their own grounds. Those 
very grounds were the essential cause of their differ- 
ence. Those who could take their stand beside him 
would see the matter as he saw it ; those who could 
not do this must remain where they w r ere. Claiming 
for his system the certainty of mathematical demon- 
stration — asserting that with him philosophy was no 
longer mere speculation, but had now become know- 
ledge, he could not bend or accommodate himself or 
his doctrines to the prejudices of others ; — they must 
come to him, not he to them. tc My philosophy," he 
says u is nothing to Herr Schmidt, from incapacity ; 
his is nothing to me from insight. From this time 
forth, I look upon all that Herr Schmidt may say, 
either directly or indirectly, about my philosophy, as 
something which, so far as I am concerned, has no 
meaning, and upon Herr Schmidt himself as a philoso- 
pher who, in relation to me, is non-existent." That 
in such disputes Fichte should express himself strongly 
is not surprising. Even if an excuse could not be 
found for it in the abuse and persecution with which he 
was constantly assailed, it might be expected from his 
very nature. He spoke strongly, because he thought 
and fell deeply. He was the servant of truth, and it 
was not- for him to mince his language towards her 
opponents. But it is worthy of remark, that on these 
9* 



114 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

occasions he was never the assailant. In answer to 
some of Reinhold's expostulations he writes thus : 
u You say that my tone touches and wounds persons 
who do not deserve it. That I sincerely regret. But 
they must deserve it in some degree, if they will not 
permit one to tell them honestly of the errors in which 
they wander, and are not willing to suffer a slight shame 
for the sake of great instruction. With him to whom 
truth is not above all other things, — above his own 
petty personality — the Wissenschaftslehre can have 
nothing to do. The internal reason of the tone which 
I adopt is this : — It fills me with scorn which I cannot 
describe, when I look upon the present want of any 
truthfulness of vision, on the deep darkness, entangle- 
ment, and perversion, which now prevail. The external 
reason is this : — How have these men (the Kantists) 
treated me ? — how do they continue to treat me ? — - 
There is nothing that I have less pleasure in than con- 
troversy. Why then can they not be at peace ? — 
For example, friend Schmidt ? I have indeed not 
handled him tenderly; — but every just person who 
knew much that is not before the public, would give me 
credit for the mildness of an angel."* 

* The following amusing passage, from the commencement of 
an anonymous publication on this controversy, may serve to show 
the kind of reputation which Fichte had acquired among his op- 
ponents : — 

"After the anathemas which the dreadful Fichte has hurled 
from the height of his philosophic throne upon the ant-hills of the 
Kantists; looking at the stigma forever branded on the foreheads 
of these unhappy creatures, which must compel them to hide their 
existence from the eye of an astonished public ; amid the general 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 115 

The true nature of Fichte's controversialism is well 
exhibited in a short correspondence with Jakob, the 
Professor of Philosophy at Halle. Jakob was editor 
of the "Annalender Philosophic," the chief organ of 
the Kantists — a journal which had distinguished itself 
by the most uncompromising attacks upon the Wissen- 
schaftslehre. Fichte had replied in the Philosophical 
Journal in his usual style. Sometime afterwards Jakob, 
who was personally unknown to Fichte, addressed a 
letter to him, full of the most noble and generous sen- 
timents, desiring that, although opposed to each other 
in principle, all animosity between them might cease. 
The following passages are extracted from Fichte's 
reply : — 

jFfdjte to Saftofc. 
" I have never hated you, nor believed that you hated 
me. It may sound presumptuous, but it is true, — that 
I do not know properly what hate is, for I have never 
hated any one. And I am by no means so passionate 
as I am commonly said to be. . . . That my Wissen- 
schaftslehre was not understood, — that it is even now 
not understood (for it is supposed that I now teach 

fear and trembling which, spreading over all philosophic sects, 
casts them to the earth before the thunder-tread of this destroying 
god, — who dare now avow himself a Kantist ? I dare — one of 
the most insignificant creatures ever dropped from the hand of 
fate. In the deep darkness which surrounds me, and which hides 
me from every eye in Germany — even from the eagle-glance of 
a Fichte ; from this quiet retreat, every attempt to break in upon 
the security of which is ridiculous in the extreme, — from here I 
may venture to raise my voice, and cry, J am a Kantist ! — and to 
Fichte — Thou canst err, and thou hast erred," &c. &c. 



116 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

other doctrines), I freely believe; — that it was not 
understood, on account of my mode of propounding it, 
in a book which was not designed for the public, but 
for my own students ; that no trust was reposed in me, 
but that I was looked upon as a babbler, whose inter- 
ference in the affairs of philosophy might do hurt to 
science ; that it was therefore concluded that the sys- 
tem which men knew well enough that they did not 
understand, was a worthless system, — all this I know 
and can comprehend. But it is surely to be expected 
from every scholar — not that he should understand 
everything, — but that he should at least know whether 
he does understand a subject or not ; and of every 
honest man, that he should not pass judgment on any- 
thing before he is conscious of understanding it. 
Dear Jakob ! I have unlimited reverence for openness 
and uprightness of character. I had heard a high char- 
acter of you, and I would never have suffered myself 
to pronounce such a judgment on your literary merit, 
bad I not been afterwards led to entertain an opposite 
impression. Now, however, by the impartiality of your 
judgment upon me — by the warm interest you take in 
me as a member of the republic of letters,* — by your 
open testimony in my behalf, you have completely won 
my personal esteem. It shall not be my fault — (allow 
me to say this without offence) — if you do not also 
possess my entire esteem as an author, publicly ex- 
pressed. I have shown B and E that I can 

do justice even to an antagonist." 

* Jakob had espoused his cause in an important dispute, of which 
we shall soon have to treat. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 117 

Jakob's reply is that of a generous opponent : — 
" Your answer, much esteemed Professor, has been 
most acceptable to me. In it I have found the man 
whom I wished to find. The differences between us 
shall be erased from our memoiy. Not a word of sat- 
isfaction to me. If anything that I do or write shall 
have the good fortune to meet your free and unpur- 
chased approbation, and you find it good to communi- 
cate your opinion to the public, it will be gratifying to 
me ; — for what joy have people of our kind in public 
life, that is not connected with the approbation of esti- 
mable men ? But I shall accept your candid refutation 
as an equally sure mark of your esteem, and joyfully 
profit by it. Confutation without bitterness is never 
unacceptable to me." 

Gradually disengaging himself from outward causes 
of disturbance, Fichte now sought to devote himself 
more exclusively to literary exertion, in order to em- 
body his philosophy in a more enduring form than that 
of oral discourses. In 1795 he became joint-editor of 
the Philosophical Journal, which had for some years 
been conducted by his friend and colleague Nietham- 
mer. His contributions to it form a most important 
part of his works, and are devoted to the scientific de- 
velopment of his system. In 1796 appeared his 
11 Doctrine of Law," and in 1798 his " Doctrine of 
Morals," — separate parts of the application which he 
purposed to make of the fundamental principles of the 
Wissenschaftslehre to the complete circle of knowl- 
edge. But this period of literary tranquillity was des- 



118 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



tined to be of short duration, for a storm soon burst 
upon him more violent than any he had hitherto en- 
countered, which once more drove him for a long time 
from the path of peaceful inquiry into the angry field 
of polemical discussion. 

Atheism is a charge which the common understanding 
has repeatedly brought against the finer speculations of 
philosophy, when, in endeavoring to solve the riddle of 
existence, they have approached, albeit with reverence 
and humility, the Ineffable Source from which all ex- 
istence proceeds. Shrouded from human comprehen- 
sion in an obscurity from which chastened imagination 
is awed back, and thought retreats in conscious weak- 
ness, — the Divine Nature is surely a theme on which 
man is little entitled to dogmatize. Accordingly, it is 
here that the philosophic intellect becomes most pain- 
fully aware of its own insufficiency. It feels that 
silence is the most fitting attitude of the finite being 
towards its Infinite and Incomprehensible Original, and 
that when it is needful that thought should shape itself 
into words, they should be those of diffidence and mod- 
est self-distrust. But the common understanding has 
no such humility ; — its God in an Incarnate Divinity ;— 
imperfection imposes its own limitations on the Illimita- 
ble, and clothes the inconceivable Spirit of the Uni- 
verse in sensuous and intelligible forms derived from 
finite nature. In the world's childhood — when the 
monstrous forms of earth were looked upon as the visi- 
ble manifestations of Deity, or the viewless essences of 
nature were imagined to contain his presence ; — in the 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



119 



world's youth when stream and forest, hill and val- 
ley, earth and ocean, were peopled with divinities, 
graceful or grotesque, kind or malevolent, pure or pol 
luted ; — in the world's ages of toil — when the crushed 
soul of the slave looked to his God for human sympa- 
thy, and sometimes fancied that he encountered worse 
than human oppression ; — in all ages, men have col- 
ored the brightness of Infinity with hues derived from 
their own hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, virtues 
and crimes. And he who felt that the Eidolon of the 
age was an inadequate representative of his own deeper 
thoughts of God, had need to place his hopes of jus- 
tice in futurity, and make up his mind to be despised 
and rejected by the men of his own day. Socrates 
drank the poisoned cup because his conceptions of 
divine things surpassed the mythology of Greece ; 
Christ endured the cross at the hands of the Jews for 
having told them the truth, which he had heard from the 
Father ; Paul suffered persecution, indignity, and death, 
for he was a setter forth of strange Gods. Modern 
times have not been without their martyrs. Descartes 
died in a foreign land for his bold thought and open 
speech ; Spinoza — the brave, kind-hearted, incor- 
ruptible Spinoza — was the object both of Jewish and 
Christian anathema. From our own land Priestley was 
banished by popular fanaticism, and in our own days 
legalized bigotry tore asunder the sacred bonds which 
united one of the purest and most sensitive of living 
beings to his offspring — the gentle, imaginative, deeply- 
religious Shelley was an "atheist!" And so, too, 
Fichte — whose ardent love of freedom made him an 



120 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

object of distrust and fear to timorous statesmen, and 
whose daring speculations struck dismay into the souls 
of creed-bound theologians — found himself assailed at 
once by religious and political persecution. But in him 
tyranny once more found a man who had the courage 
to oppose himself, alone and unfriended, against its 
hate, and whose steadfast devotion to truth remained 
unshaken amid all the dangers and difficulties which 
gathered round his way. 

Fichte's theory of God has already been spoken of 
in a general way. It was the necessary result of his 
speculative position. The consciousness of the indi- 
vidual reveals itself alone ; his knowledge cannot pass 
beyond the limits of his own being. His conceptions 
of other things and other beings are only his concep- 
tions, — they are not those things or beings themselves. 
From this point of view the common logical arguments 
for the existence of God, and in particular what is 
called the " argument from design" supposed to exist 
in the material world, entirely disappears. Only from 
our idea of beauty, and our faith in the inevitable con- 
sequences of moral action, arises the belief in a prin- 
ciple of moral order in the world ; — and this principle 
is God. But this living principle of a living universe 
must be infinite ; while all our ideas and conceptions 
are finite, and applicable only to finite beings, not to 
the Infinite. Even consciousness and personality are 
the attributes of relative and limited beings ; and to ap- 
ply these to God, is to bring Him down to the rank of 
relative and limited being. The Deity is thus not an 
object of knowledge, but of faith, — not to be ap- 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE 121 

proached by the understanding, but by the moral sense 
— not to be conceived of, but to be felt. All attempts to 
embrace the infinite in the conception of the finite, are, 
and must be, only accommodations to the frailties of 
man. 

The Philosophical Journal for 1798 contained an 
essay by Forberg "On the definition of the Idea of 
Religion." Fichte found the principles of this essay 
not so much opposed to his own, as only imperfect in 
themselves, and deemed it necessary to prefix to it a 
paper " On the grounds of our faith in a Divine Gov- 
ernment of the world." In this article, after pointing 
out tlie imperfections and merely human qualities which 
are attributed to the Deity in the common conceptions 
of His being, and which necessarily flow from the 
u cause and effect " argument in its ordinary applica- 
tions, he proceeds to state the true grounds of our faith 
in a moral government or moral order in the universe, — 
not for the purpose of inducing faith by proof, but to 
show the springs of a faith already present in man, and 
indestructibly rooted in his nature The business of 
philosophy is not to create, but to explain ; the faith in 
the divine exists without the aid of philosophy, — it is 
hers only to investigate its origin, not for the conversion 
of the infidel, but to explain the conviction of the be- 
liever. The sources from which he draws that faith 
have been noticed already in a previous part of this 
memoir, and need not be repeated here. The general 
results of the essay may be gathered from the con- 
cluding passage : — 

" Hence it is an error to say that it is doubtful 
10 



122 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

whether or not there is a God. It is not doubtful, but 
the most certain of all certainties, — nay, the founda- 
tion of all other certainties — the one absolutely valid 
objective truth, — that there is a moral order in the 
world ; that to every rational being is assigned his par- 
ticular place in that order, and the work which he has 
to do ; that his destiny, in so far as it is not occasioned 
by his own conduct, is the result of this plan ; that in 
no other way can even a hair fall from his head, nor a 
sparrow fall to the ground around him ; that every true 
and good action prospers, and every bad action fails ; 
and that all things must work together for good to those 
who truly love goodness. On the other hand, no one 
who reflects a moment, and honestly avows the result of 
his reflection, can remain in doubt that the conception 
of God as a particular substance is impossible and con- 
tradictory: and it is right candidly to say this, and to si- 
lence the babbling of the schools, in order that the true 
religion of cheerful virtue may be established in its room. 
" Two great poets have expressed this faith of good 
and thinking men with inimitable beauty. Such an one 
may adopt their language : — 

" < Who dares to say, 

" I believe in God " ? 

Who dares to name him — [seek ideas and words jor him.'] 

And to profess, 

" I believe in him " ? 

Who can feel, 

And yet affirm, 

" I believe him not " ? 

The All-Embracer, — [when he is approached through the 
moral sense, not through theoretical speculation, and 
the world is looked upon as the scene of living moral 
activity.] 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 123 

The All-Sustainer, 

Does he not embrace, support, 

Thee, me, himself ? 

Does not the vault of heaven arch o'er us there ? 

Does not the earth lie firmly here below? 

And do not the eternal stars 

Rise on us with their friendly beams? 

Do I not see my image in thine eyes ? 

And does not the All 

Press on thy head and heart, 

And weave itself around thee, visibly and invisibly, 

In eternal mystery? 

Fill thy heart with it till it overflow ; 

And in the feeling, when tbou'rt wholly blest, 

Then call it what thou wilt, — 

Happiness! Heart! Love! God! 

I have no name for it : 

Feeling is all ; name is but sound and smoke, 

Veiling the glow of heaven.'* 

" And the second sings — 

" l And God is ! — a boly Will that abides, 

Though the human will may falter; 
High over both Space and Time it rides, 

The high thought that will never alter : 
And while all things in change eternal roll, 
It endures, through change, a motionless soul.' " t 

The publication of this essay furnished a welcome 
opportunity to those Princes, to whom Fichte was 
obnoxious on account of his democratic opinions, to 
institute public proceedings against him. The note 



* Goethe's " Faust." 
t The above stanza of Schiller's " Worte des Glaubens" is 
taken from Mr. Merivale's excellent translation. 



124 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

was sounded by the publication of an anonymous pamph- 
let, entitled " Letters of a Father to his Son on the 
Atheism of Fichte and Forberg," which was industri- 
ously and even gratuitously circulated throughout Ger- 
many. The first official proceeding was a decree of 
the Electoral Government, prohibiting the sale of the 
Philosophical Journal, and confiscating all copies of it 
found in the electorate. This was followed up by a 
requisition addressed to the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, as 
the Conservator of the University of Jena, in which 
Fichte and Forberg were accused of u the coarsest 
atheism, openly opposed not only to the Christian, but 
even to natural, religion ; " — and their severe punish- 
ment was demanded ; failing which, it was threatened 
that the subjects of the Elector should be prohibited 
from resorting to the University. These proceedings 
were imitated by the other Protestant Courts of Ger- 
many, that of Prussia excepted. 

In answer to the official condemnation of his essay, 
Fichte sent forth his u Appeal to the Public against 
the accusation of Atheism," Jena, 1799 ; — in which, 
with his accustomed boldness, he does not confine him- 
self to the strict limits of self-defence, but exposes with 
no lenient hand the true cause which rendered him ob- 
noxious to the Electoral Government — not the atheism 
of which he was so absurdly accused, but the spirit of 
freedom and independence which his philosophy incul- 
cated. He did not desire, he would not accept of any 
compromise ; — he demanded a free acquittal or a pub- 
lic condemnation. He adopted the same high tone in 
his defence before his own Government. The Court 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 125 

of Weimar had no desire to restrain the liberty of 
thought, or to erect any barrier against free speculation. 
It was too wise not to perceive that a Protestant Uni- 
versity in which secular power should dare to invade 
the precincts of philosophy or profane the highest sanc- 
tuaries of thought, however great its reputation for the 
moment, must infallibly sink from being a temple of 
knowledge into a warehouse for the sale of literary, 
medical or theological merchandise — a school-room for 
artisans — a drill-yard for hirelings. But, on the other 
hand, it was no part of the policy of the Court of Wei- 
mar to give offence to its more powerful neighbors, or 
to enter upon a crusade in defence of opinions obnox- 
ious to the masses, because unintelligible to them. It 
was therefore intended to pass over this matter as 
smoothly as possible, and to satisfy the complaining 
governments by administering to Fitchte a general 
rebuke for imprudence in promulgating his views in 
language liable to popular misconstruction. The ap- 
pearance of his " Appeal to the Public," however, 
rendered this arrangement less easy of accomplishment. 
The opinion of the Government with respect to this 
publication was communicated to Fichte in a letter 
from Schiller, — " that there was no doubt that he had 
cleared himself of the accusation before every thinking 
mind ; but that it was surprising that he had not con- 
sulted with higher quarters before he sent forth his ap- 
peal : why appeal to the public at all, when he had only 
to do with a favorable and enlightened Government ?" 
The obvious answer to which was, that the " Appeal 
to the Public " was a reply to the public confiscation 
10* 



126 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

of his work, while the private accusation before his 
Prince was answered by a private defence. In that 
defence the Court found that the accused was determin- 
ed to push the investigation as far as his accusers could 
desire, — that he demanded either an honorable and 
unreserved acquittal, or deposition from his office, as a 
false teacher. A further breach between the Court 
and Fichte was caused by a letter which, in the course 
of these proceedings, he addressed to a member of the 
Council — his private friend — in which he announced 
that a resignation of his professorship would be the 
result of any reproof on the part of the Government. 
This letter, addressed to an individual in his private 
capacity, was most unjustifiably placed among the 
official documents connected with the proceedings. Its 
tone, excusable perhaps in a private communication, 
seemed presumptuous and arrogant when addressed to 
the supreme authority — it was the haughty defiance of 
an equal, rather than the remonstrance of a subject. 
This abuse of a private letter — this betrayal of the 
confidence of friendship — cost Jena its most distin- 
guished professor. On the 2d of April, 1799, Fichte 
received the decision of the Ducal Court. It contained 
a reproof for imprudence in promulgating doctrines so 
unusual and so offensive to the common understanding, 
and accepted of Fichte's resignation as a recognized 
consequence of that reproof. It is to be regretted that 
the policy of the government and the faults of individu- 
als, prevented in this instance the formal recognition of 
the great principle involved in the contest, i. e. that 
civil governments have no right to restrain the expres- 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 127 

sion of any theoretical opinion propounded in a scientific 
form and addressed to the scientific world. 

In strong contrast to the feelings of the populace, 
stands the enthusiastic attachment evinced towards 
Fichte by the students. Two numerously signed peti- 
tions were presented to the Duke, praying for his recall. 
These having proved unavailing, they caused a medal- 
lion of their beloved teacher to be struck, in testimony 
of their admiration and esteem. 

Fichte's position was now one of the most difficult 
which can well be imagined. A prolonged residence 
at Jena was out of the question, — he could no longer 
remain there. But where to turn ? — where to seek an 
asylum ? No neighboring state would afford him shel- 
ter ; even the privilege of a private residence was re- 
fused. At length a friend appeared in the person of 
Dohm, Minister to the King of Prussia. Through 
him Fichte applied to Frederick-William for permission 
to reside in his dominions, with a view of earning a 
livelihood by literary exertion and private teaching. 
The answer of the Prussian monarch was worthy of 
his high character: — "If," said he, "Fichte is so 
peaceful a citizen, and so free from all dangerous asso- 
ciations as he is said to be, I willingly accord him a 
residence in my dominions. As to his religious prin- 
ciples, it is not for the state to decide upon them." * 

* The original phraseology of this last passage is peculiarly 
characteristic: — "1st es wahr, dass er mit dem lieben Gotte in 
Feindseligkeiten begrifFen ist ; so mag dies der liebe Gott mit ihm 
abmachen ; mir thut das nichts." 



128 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

Fichte arrived in Prussia in July, 1799, and devoted 
the summer and autumn to the completion of his 
" Bestimmung des Menschen." Towards the end of 
the year he returned to Jena for the purpose of re- 
moving his family to Berlin, where, henceforward, he 
fixed his place of residence. The following extracts 
are from letters written to his wife during their tempo- 
rary separation : — 

jHcftte an Sriuer JFrau. 
u You probably wish to know how I live. For many 
reasons, the weightiest of which lie in myself and in my 
cough, 1 cannot keep up the early rising. Six o'clock 
is generally my earliest. I go then to my writing desk, 
so that I am not altogether idle, although I do not get 
on as I could wish. I am now working at the Bestim- 
mung des Menschen. At half-past twelve I hold my 
toilet (yes ! — get powdered, dressed, &c .), and at one 
I call on M. Veit, where I meet Schlegel and a re- 
formed preacher, Schlegel's friend." * At three I 
come back, and read a French novel, or write, as I do 
now to you. If the piece is at all tolerable, which is 
not always the case, I go to the theatre at five. If it 
is not, I walk with Schlegel in the suburbs, in the 
zoological gardens, or under the linden trees before the 
house. Sometimes I make small country parties with 
Schlegel and his friends. So we did, for example, the 
day before yesterday, with the most lively remembrance 
of thee and the little one. We had no wine to drink 
your health, — only sour beer, and a slice of black, 



Schl 



eiermacner. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 129 

bitter bread, with a thin bit of half-decayed ham stuck 
upon it with dirty butter. Politeness makes me put up 
with many things here which are scarcely tolerable 
But I have thought of a better method for country par- 
ties. 

" In the evening I sup on a roll of bread and a quart 
of Medoc wine, which are the only tolerable things in 
the house ; and go to bed between ten and eleven, to 
sleep without dreaming. Only once — it was after thy 
first alarming letter — I had my Hermann in my arms, 
full of joy that he was well again, when suddenly he 
stretched himself out, turned pale, and all those ap- 
pearances followed which are indelibly imprinted on my 
memory. 

" I charge thee, dearest, with thy own health and the 
health of the little one. — Farewell." 

"I am perfectly secure here. Yesterday I visited 
the Cabinet Councillor Beyme, w r ho is daily engaged 
with the King, and spoke to him about my position. I 
told him honestly that I had come here in order to take 
up my abode, and that I sought for safety, because it 
was my intention that my family should follow me. He 
assured me, that far from there being any desire to hin- 
der me in this purpose, it would be esteemed an honor 
and advantage if I made my residence here, — that the 
King was immovable upon certain principles affecting 
these questions, &c." 

* * # # # 

"I work with industry and pleasure. My work on 
the c Destiny of Man/ will, I think, be ready at 



130 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 



Michaelmas — written T not printed, — and it seems to 
me likely to succeed. You know that I am never sat- 
isfied with my works when they are first written, and 
therefore that my own opinion on this point is worth 
something By my residence in Ber- 
lin I have gained this much, that I shall henceforth be 
allowed to live in peace elsewhere ; — and this is much. 
I venture to say that I should have been teazed and 
perhaps hunted out of any other place. But it is quite 
another thing now that I have lived in Berlin under the 
eye of the King. By and by I think even the Weimar 
Court will learn to be ashamed of its conduct, espec- 
ially if 1 make no advances to it. In the meantime 
something advantageous may happen. So be thou 
calm and of good courage, dear one, and trust in thy 
Fichte's judgment, talent, and good fortune. Thou 
laughst at the last word. Well, well ! — I assure you 
that good fortune will soon come back again." 
#'■-."'.'#■■-"'*■'#■• 
" I have written to Reinhold a cold, somewhat up- 
braiding letter. The good weak soul is full of lamen- 
tations. I shall immediately comfort him again, and 
take care that he is not alienated from me in future. If 
I was beside thee, thou wouldst say — c Dost thou 
hear, Fichte ? thou art proud — I must tell it thee, if 
no one else can.' Very well, be thou glad that I am 
proud. Since I have no humility, I must be proud, so 
that I may have something to carry me through the 
world." 

TP 3nF Tt* *JP *lP 

" Of all that thou writest to me, I am most dissatis- 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 131 

fied with this, that thou callest our Hermann an ill-bred 
boy. No greater misfortune could befall me on earth 
than that this child should be spoiled ; and I would 
lament my absence from Jena only if it should be the 
cause of that. I adjure thee by thy maternal duties, by 
thy love to me, by all that is holy to thee, let this child 
be thy first and only care, and leave everything else for 
him. Thou art deficient in firmness and coolness ; — 
hence all thy errors in the education of the little one. 
Teach him that when thou hast once denied him any- 
thing, it is determined and irrevocable, and that neither 
petulance nor the most urgent entreaties will be of any 
avail : — once fail in this, and you have an ill-taught, 
obstinate boy, particularly with the natural disposition 
to strength of character which our little one possesses ; 
and it costs a hundred times more labor to set him right 
again. For indeed it should be our first care, not to 
let his character be spoiled ; — and believe me, there 
is in him the capacity of being a wild knave, as well as 
that of being an honest, true, virtuous man. In par- 
ticular, do not suppose that he will be led by persuasion 
and reasoning. The most intelligent men err in this, 
and thou also in the same way. He cannot think for 
himself yet, nor will he be able to do so for a long 
time ; — at present, the first thing is that he should 
learn obedience and subjection to a foreign mind. 
Thou mayst indeed sometimes gain thy immediate pur- 
pose by persuasion, not because he understands thy 
reasons, and is moved by them, but because thou in a 
manner submittest thyself to him, and makest him the 
judge. Thus his pride is flattered ; thy talk employs 



132 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

his vacant time and dispels his caprices. But this is 
all ; — while for the future thou renderest his guidance 
more difficult for thee, and confirmest thyself in a per- 
nicious prejudice." 

•K> tC *rf Tp ^p ^P 

" Cheerfulness and good courage, are to me the high- 
est proof that thou lovest me as I should be loved. 
Dejection and sorrow are distrust in me, and make me 
unhappy, because they make thee unhappy. It is no 
proof of love, that thou shouldst feel deeply the injus- 
tice done to me : to me it is a light matter, and so must 
it be to thee, for thou and T are one. 

" Do not speak of dying ; indulge in no such 
thoughts ; for they weaken thee, and thus might be- 
come true. No ! we will yet live with each other many 
joyful and happy days ; and our child shall close our 
eyes when he is a mature and perfect man : till then he 
needs us. 

" In the progress of my present work, I have taken 
a deeper glance into religion than ever I did before. 
In me the emotions of the heart proceed only from 
perfect intellectual clearness : — it cannot be but that 
the clearness I have now attained on this subject shall 
also take possession of my heart. 

u Believe me, that to this disposition is to be as- 
cribed, in a great measure, my steadfast cheerfulness, 
and the mildness with which I look upon the injustice 
of my opponents. I do not believe that, without this 
dispute and its evil consequences, I should ever have 
come to this clear insight and this disposition of heart 
which I now enjoy ; and so the violence we have ex- 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. lo«5 

perienced has had a result which neither you nor I can 
regret. 

" Comfort the poor boy, and dry thy tears as lie bids 
thee. Think that it is his father's advice, who indeed 
would say the same thing. And do with our dear Her- 
mann as I wrote thee before. The child is our riches, 
and we must use him well." 

If the spectacle of the scholar contending against 
the hindrances of fortune and the imperfections of his 
own nature — struggling with the common passions of 
mankind and the weakness of his own will — soaring 
aloft amid the highest speculations of genius, and drag- 
ged down again to earth by its coarsest attractions ; — 
if this is one of the most painful spectacles which the 
theatre of life presents, surely one of the noblest, is 
when we see such a man pursuing some lofty theme, 
with a constancy which difficulties cannot shake, nor 
the whirlwind of passion destroy. Nor is the scene 
less interesting and instructive, if the inherent nobility 
of its central figure has drawn around him a few souls 
of kindred nobleness, whose presence sheds a genial 
brilliance over a path otherwise solitary, although never 
dark or doubtful : — Such was now Fichte's position. 
The first years of his residence at Berlin were among 
the most peaceful in his life of vicissitude and storm. 
Uninterrupted by public duties, he now applied his 
whole powers to the perfecting of his philosophy, sur- 
rounded by a small circle of friends worthy of his 
attachment and esteem. Friedrich and Wilhelm Schle- 
gel, Tieck, Woltmann, Reichhardt and Friedrich Rich- 
11 



134 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

ter, were among his chosen associates ; Bernhardi, with 
his clear and acute, yet discursive thought, his social 
graces and warm affections, was his almost daily com- 
panion. Hufeland, the king's physician, whom he had 
known at Jena, now became bound to him by the 
closest ties, and rendered him many kind offices, over 
which the delicacy of friendship has thrown a veil. 
Amid the amenities of such society, and withdrawn 
from the anxieties and disturbances of public life, Fichte 
now devoted himself to the development and completion 
of his philosophic theory. It was during this period 
of repose that the great characteristic idea of his sys- 
tem first revealed itself to his mind in perfect fulness, 
and impressed upon his subsequent writings that deeply 
religious character to which we have formerly adverted. 
The passage from the circle of subjective reflection to 
objective and absolute being, which Kant had left un- 
attempted, had hitherto, as we have already seen, been 
rested by Fichte on the ground of moral feeling only. 
Our faith in the Divine was the inevitable result of our 
faith in Duty ; it was the imperative demand of our 
moral nature. But his thoughts were now directed 
more steadily to the religious aspect of his theory, and 
he sought to add an intellectual validity to this moral 
conviction, by a deeper analysis of the fact of con- 
sciousness. What is the essential character of our know- 
ledge? It is this: — that it announces itself as a represen- 
tation of something else, the picture of something supe- 
rior to and independent of itself. It is thus composed of 
a double idea: — a higher being which it imperfectly rep- 
resents ; and itself, — inferior to, derived from, and 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 135 

dependent upon the first. Thus it must renounce the 
thought of itself as the only being whose existence it 
reveals, and regard itself rather as the image or reflec- 
tion of a truly Highest and Ultimate Being revealed in 
human thought, and indeed its essential foundation. 
And this idea cannot be got rid of on the ground that 
it is a merely subjective conception ; for we have here 
reached the primitive essence of thought itself, — and 
to deny this would be to deny the very nature and con- 
ditions of our knowledge, and to maintain an obvious 
contradiction; — this, namely, — that there can be a 
conception without an object conceived, a manifestation 
without substance, and that the ultimate foundation of 
all things is nothing. By this reconciliation, and in- 
deed essential union of the subjective with the objective, 
reason has finally bridged over the chasm by which 
analysis had formerly separated it from the simple faith 
of common humanity. Consciousness becomes the 
manifestation — the self-revelation of the absolute — 
and this only. The varied forms into which it is broken 
up, are only more or less perfect modes of this one 
Existence, and the idea of the world as an infinite as- 
semblage of concrete beings, or of cooperative forces, 
conscious or unconscious, is another phase of the same 
infinite and absolute Being. But in no case, and from 
no point of view, is consciousness a purely subjective 
and empty train of fancies ; it contains nothing which 
does not rest upon and image forth a higher reality ; 
and thus Idealism assumes the form of a sublime and 
perfected Realism. 

This change in the spirit of his philosophy has been 



136 



MEMOIR OF F1CHTE. 



ascribed to the influence of a distinguished contempo- 
rary, who now (1845) fills the chair at Berlin, of which 
Fichte was the first occupant. It seems to us that it 
was the natural and inevitable result of his own princi- 
ples and mode of thought. In the development of the 
system, whether in the mind of its author or in that of 
any learner, the starting point is necessarily the individu- 
al consciousness — the finite Ego. But when the 
logical processes of the understanding have performed 
their office, and led us from this, the nearest of our 
spiritual experiences, to that higher point in which finite 
individuality disappears in the great thought of an all- 
• embracing consciousness — an Infinite Ego, — it be- 
comes unnecessary to reiterate the initial steps of the 
investigation — to imitate the gropings of the school-boy 
rather than the comprehensive vision of the man. From 
this higher point of view Fichte now looked out on 
human life and action, and saw in it no longer the pecu- 
liarities of the individual, but the harmonious although 
diversified manifestation of the one Idea of universal 
being, — the self-revelation of the Absolute — ^ the in- 
finitely varied forms under which God becomes u mani- 
fest in the flesh." 

The first traces of this change in his speculative 
position are observable in his " Bestimmung des Mens- 
chen," published in 1799, in which, as we have already 
said, may be found the most complete exposition of his 
philosophy which can be communicated in a popular 
form. In 1801, appeared his " Antwortschreiben an 
Reinhold," and his " Sonnenklarer Bericht an das 
grossere Publicum iiber das eigentliche Wesen der 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 137 

neuesten Philosophic." These he intended to follow 
up in 1082 with a more strictly scientific and complete 
account of the u Wissenchaftslehre," designed for the 
philosophical reader only. But he was induced to 
postpone this purpose, partly on account of the recent 
modification of his own philosophical point of view, and 
partly because of the existing state of the literary world, 
in which Schelling's Natur-Philosophie was now making 
rapid progress. Before communicating to the world 
the work which should be handed down to posterity as 
the finished institute of his theory, it appeared to him 
necessary, first of all to prepare the public mind for its 
reception by a series of introductory applications of his 
system to subjects of general interest. But this purpose 
was likewise laid aside for a time, — principally, it 
would seem, from uncertainty as to the mode in which 
he should communicate with the world, and perhaps 
also from a certain degree of dissatisfaction with the 
reception which his works had hitherto received. 
These feelings occasioned a silence of four years on 
his part, and are characteristically expressed in the pre- 
face to the following Lectures. 

In the meantime, although Fichte retired for a season 
from the prominent position which he had hitherto 
occupied in the public eye, it was impossible for him 
to remain inactive. Shut out from communication with 
the " reading public," he sought to gather around him 
fit hearers to whom he might impart the high message 
with which he was charged. This was, indeed his 
favorite mode of communication : in the lecture-room 
his fiery eloquence found a freer scope than the form of 
11* 



13S MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

a literary work would permit. A circle of pupils soon 
gathered around him at Berlin. His private lectures 
were attended by the most distinguished scholars and 
statesmen : W. Schlegel and Kotzebue, the Minister 
Scbrotter, the High Chancellor Beyme, and the Minis- 
ter von Altenstein, might be found among his auditory. 
In 1804 an opportunity presented itself of resuming 
his favorite vocation of an academic teacher. This 
was an invitation from Russia to assume the chair of 
Philosophy in the University of Charkow. The exist- 
ing state of literary culture in that country, however, 
did not seem to offer any promising field for his exer- 
tions ; and another proposal, which appeared to open 
the way to a more useful application of his powers oc- 
curring at the same time, he declined the invitation from 
Charkow. The second invitation was likewise a foreign 
one, — from Bavaria, namely, to the Philosophic chair at 
Landshut. It was accompanied by pecuniary proposals 
of a most advantageous nature. But experience had 
taught Fichte to set a much higher value upon the internal 
conditions of such an office, than upon its outward ad- 
vantages. In desiring an academic chair, he sought 
only an opportunity of carrying out his plan of a strictly 
philosophical education, with a view to the future re- 
ception of the Wissenchaftslehre in its most perfect 
form. To this purpose he had devoted his life, and no 
pecuniary consideration could induce him to lay it aside. 
But its thorough fulfilment demanded absolute freedom 
of teaching and writing as its primary condition, and 
this was therefore the first point to which Fichte looked 
in any appointment which might be offered to him. He 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 139 

frankly laid his views on this subject before the Bavarian 
Government. " This plan," he says, u might perhaps 
be carried forward without the support of any govern- 
ment, although this has its difficulties. But if any 
enlightened government should resolve to support it, it 
would, in my opinion, acquire thereby a deathless fame, 
and become the benefactor of humanity." Whether the 
Bavarian Government was dissatisfied with the conditions 
required does not appear, — but the negotiations on this 
subject were shortly afterwards broken off. 

At last, however, an opportunity occurred of carry- 
ing out his views in Prussia itself. Through the influ- 
ence of his friends Beyme and Altenstein with the 
Minister Hardenberg, he was appointed Professor of 
Philosophy at the University of Erlangen, with the 
liberty of returning to Berlin during the winter to con 
tinue his philosophic lectures there. In May, 1805, he 
entered upon his new duties with a brilliant success, 
which seemed to promise a repetition of the epoch of 
Jena. Besides the course of lectures to his own stu- 
dents, in which he took a comprehensive survey of the 
conditions and method of scientific knowledge in gener- 
al, he delivered a series of private lectures to his fel 
low professors and others, in which he laid down his 
views in a more abstract form. In addition to these 
labors, he delivered to the whole students of the Uni- 
versity his celebrated lectures on the " Nature of the 
Scholar." These remarkable discourses must have 
had a powerful effect on the young and ardent minds to 
which they were addressed. Never, perhaps, were the 
moral dignity and sacredness of the literary calling set 
forth with more impressive earnestness. 



140 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

Encouraged by the brilliant success which had attend- 
ed his prelections at Erlangen, Fichte now resolved to 
give forth to the world the results of his later studies, 
and especially to embody, in some practical and gener- 
ally intelligible form, his great conception of the eternal 
revelation of God in consciousness. Accordingly, on 
his return to Berlin in the winter of 1805-6, he pub- 
lished the course of lectures we have just alluded to, 
on the w Nature of the Scholar," followed soon after 
by another course which had been delivered at Berlin 
during the previous year, under the title of u Grund- 
ziige des gegenwartigen Zeitalters." Of the first of 
these a translation is now offered to the English reader. 
The Scholar is here represented as he who, possessed 
and actuated by the Divine Idea, labors to obtain for 
that Idea an outward manifestation in the world, either 
by communicating it to his fellow-men (as Teacher) ; 
or by directly embodying it in visible forms (as Ruler, 
Lawgiver, Statesman, &c.) The second course is an 
application of the same great principle to General His- 
tory, abounding in profound and comprehensive views 
of the history, prospects, and destiny of man. This 
series of popular works was completed by the publica- 
tion in the spring of 1806, of the u Anweisung zum 
Seligen Leben, oder die Religionslehre ; " the most 
important of all his later writings, which contains the 
final results of his philosophy in its most exalted appli- 
cation. 

Fichte's long-cherished hopes of founding an academi- 
cal institution in accordance with his philosophical views, 
seemed now about to be realized. During the winter 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 141 

vacation, Hardenberg communicated with him on the 
subject of a new organization of the University at Er- 
langen. Fichte drew up a plan for this purpose, which 
was submitted to the Minister in 1806. But fortune 
again interposed ; the outbreak of the war with France 
prevented his resuming the duties which had been so 
well begun. 

The campaign of 1805 had subjected the greater 
part of Germany to the power of Napoleon. Prussia, 
almost alone, maintained her independence, surrounded 
on every side by the armies or vassals of France. Her 
struggle with the giant-power of the continent was of 
short duration. On the 9th October, 1806, war was 
declared — on the 14th the double battle of Auerstadt 
and Jena was fought — and on the 21st Napoleon en- 
tered Berlin. In rapid succession, all the fortresses of 
Prussia fell into the hands of the invader. 

Fichte eagerly desired permission to accompany the 
army which his country sent forth against her invad- 
ers. The hopes of Germany hung upon its progress ; 
its success would bring freedom and peace, — its fail- 
ure, military despotism, with all its attendant horrors. 
Opposed to the well trained troops of France, elated 
with victory and eager for new conquests, the defenders 
of Germany needed all the aid which high principle 
and ardent patriotism could bring to their cause. To 
maintain such a spirit in the army by such addresses as 
afterwards appeared under the celebrated title of u Re- 
den an die Deutschen," Fichte conceived to be his 
appropriate part in the general resistance to the enemy; 
and for that purpose he desired to be near the troops. 



142 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

" If the orator," he says, u must content himself with 
speech — if he cannot fight in your ranks to prove the 
truth of his principles by his actions, by his contempt 
of danger and of death, by his presence in the most 
perilous places of the combat, — this is only the fault 
of his age, which has separated the calling of the 
scholar from that of the warrior. But he feels that if 
he had been taught to carry arms, he would have been 
behind none in courage ; he laments that his age has 
denied him the privilege accorded to iEschylus and 
Cervantes, to make good his words by manlike deeds. 
He would restore that time if he could ; and in the 
present circumstances, which he looks upon as bringing 
with them a new phase of his existence, he would 
proceed rather to deeds than to words. But since he 
may only speak, he would speak fire and sword. Nor 
would he do this securely and away from danger. In 
his discourses he would give utterance to truths belong- 
ing to this subject with all the clearness with which he 
himself sees them, with all the earnestness of which he 
is capable, — utter them avowedly and with his own 
name, — truths which should cause him to be held 
worthy of death before the tribunal of the enemy. And 
on that account he would not faint-heartedly conceal 
himself, but speak boldly before your face, that he 
might either live free in his fatherland, or perish in its 
overthrow." 

The rapid progress of the war prevented compliance 
with his w T ish, but the spirit which gave it birth was well 
appreciated by Frederick-William. " Your idea, dear 
Fichte," says the reply to his proposal, u does you 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 143 

honor. The King thanks you for your offer ; — per- 
haps we may make use of it afterwards. But the King 
must first speak to his army by deeds : then eloquence 
may increase the advantages of victory. " 

The defeat of Jena, and the rapid march of Napo- 
leon upon Berlin, which remained defenceless, render- 
ed it necessary for all who had identified themselves 
with the cause of their country to seek refuge in instant 
flight. Fichte's resolution was soon taken : — he 
would share the dangers of his fatherland, rather 
than purchase safety by submission. Fichte's wife 
remained in Berlin to take charge of their own and 
of Hufeland's household, while the two friends fled 
beyond the Oder. 

Fichte now took up his residence at Konigsberg to 
await the result of the war. The uncertainty of his 
future prospects, and the dangerous situation in which 
he had left his family, did not prevent him from pursu- 
ing his vocation as a public teacher, even in the face of 
many hindrances. During the winter he delivered a 
course of philosophical lectures in the University, hav- 
ing been appointed provisional professor of philosophy 
during his residence. He steadfastly resisted the ear- 
nest desire of his wife to return to Berlin during its oc- 
cupancy by the French, conceiving it to be his duty to 
submit to every privation and discomfort, rather than 
give an indirect sanction to the presence of the enemy 
by sitting down quietly under their rule, although he 
could now do so with perfect safety to himself. " Such 
a return," he says, " would stand in direct contradic- 
tion to the declarations made in my address to the King, 



144 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

of which address my present circumstances are the result. 
And if no other keep me to my word, it is just so much 
more my duty to hold myself to it. It is precisely 
when other scholars of note in our country are waver- 
ing, that he who has been hitherto true, should stand 
the firmer in his uprightness." 

The consequences of the battle of Eylau (8th Febru- 
ary, 1807) rendered his residence in Konigsberg no 
longer safe or desirable. He therefore removed to 
Copenhagen, where he arrived on the 9th of July, hav- 
ing been detained for some weeks at Memel, and on 
sea, by contrary winds. Soon after this, peace being 
at length concluded, and Berlin evacuated, he returned 
to his family towards the end of August. 

With the return of peace, the Prussian Government 
determined to repair the loss of political importance, 
by fostering among its citizens the desire of intellec- 
tual distinction and the love of free speculation. It 
seemed to the eminent men who then stood around the 
throne of Frederick- William, that the temple of German 
independence had now to be rebuilt from its founda- 
tions ; that the old stock of liberty having withered or 
been swept away in the tornado which had just passed 
over their heads, a new growth must take its place, 
springing from a deeper root and quickened by a fresher 
stream. One of the first means which suggested it- 
self for the attainment of this purpose, was the estab- 
lishment at Berlin of a new school of higher education, 
free from the imperfections of the old Universities, 
from which, as from the spiritual heart of the commu- 
nity, a current of life and energy might be poured forth 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE 145 

through all its members. Fichte was chosen by the 
Minister as the man before all others fitted for this task, 
and unlimited power was given him to frame for the 
new University a constitution which should ensure its 
efficiency and success. No employment could have 
been more congenial to Fichte's inclinations ; — it pre- 
sented him at last with the long-wished-for opportunity 
of developing a systematic plan of human instruction, 
founded on the spiritual nature of man. He entered 
with ardor upon the undertaking, and towards the end 
of 1807 his plan was completed, and laid before the 
Minister. Its chief feature was its perfect unity of 
purpose — the complete subordination of every branch 
of instruction to the one great object of all teaching, — 
not the inculcation of opinion, but the spiritual culture 
and elevation of the individual. The institution was to 
be an organic whole ; — not a mere assemblage of 
teachers holding various and perhaps opposite views, 
and living only to disseminate these — but of men with 
a common purpose, steadily pursuing one recognized 
object. The office of the Professor was not to repeat 
verbally what already stood printed in books, and might 
be found there, but to exercise a diligent supervision 
over the studies of the pupil, and see that he fully 
acquired, by his own effort, and as a personal and inde- 
pendent possession, the branch of knowledge which 
was the object of his studies. It was thus a school for 
the scientific use of the understanding, in which posi- 
tive or historical knowledge was to be looked upon 
only as a vehicle of instruction, not as the ultimate 
end : — spiritual independence, intellectual strength, 
12 



146 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

moral dignity — these were the great ends to the attain- 
ment of which everything else was but a means. The 
plan met with distinguished approbation from the Min- 
ister to whom it was presented ; and if, when the Uni- 
versity was actually established some time afterwards, 
the ordinary and more easily fulfilled constitution of 
such schools was followed, it is to be attributed to the 
management of the undertaking having passed into 
other hands, and to the difficulty of finding teachers 
who would cooperate in the accomplishment of the 
scheme. 

But the misfortunes of his country induced Fichte 
to make a yet more direct attempt to rouse the fallen 
spirit of liberty, and once more to awaken in the hearts 
of his countrymen the desire of independence, which 
now lay crushed beneath a foreign yoke. Prussia was 
the last forlorn hope of German freedom, and it now 
seemed to lie almost at the mercy of the conqueror. 
Fichte was well aware of the dangers attending any 
open attempt to excite a spirit of opposition to the 
French, but he w 7 as not accustomed to weigh danger 
against duty : with him there was but short pause be- 
tween conviction and action. " The sole question," 
said he to himself, u is this : — canst thou hope that the 
good to be attained is greater than the danger ? The 
good is the re-awakening and elevation of the people ; 
against which my personal danger is not to be reck- 
oned, but for which it may rather be most advanta- 
geously incurred. My family and my son shall not 
want the support of the nation, — the least of the ad- 
vantages of having a martyr for their father. This is 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 147 

the best choice. I could not devote my life to a better 
end." 

Thus heroically resolved that he, at least, should 
not be wanting in his duty to his fatherland, he deliv- 
ered his celebrated u Reden an die Deutschen " — 
(Addresses to the German People) — in the academical 
buildings in Berlin, during the winter of 1807-8. His 
voice was often drowned by the trumpets of the French 
troops, and well-known spies frequently made their 
appearance among his auditory ; but he continued, un- 
dismayed, to direct all the fervor of his eloquence 
against the despotism of Napoleon, and the system 
of spoiling and oppression under which his country 
groaned. It is somewhat singular, that while Davoust 
threatened the chief literary men of Berlin with ven- 
geance if they should either speak or write upon the 
political state of Germany, Fichte should have remained 
unmolested — the only one who did speak out, openly 
and fearlessly, against the foreign yoke. 

This spirit-stirring course of public activity was in- 
terrupted by a severe illness, which attacked him in the 
spring of 1808. It was his first illness, and it took so 
determined a hold of his powerful constitution, that he 
never thoroughly got rid of its effects. Deep-seated 
nervous disease, and particularly an affection of the 
liver, reduced him to great weakness, and for a long 
time it seemed doubtful whether his life could be saved. 
It was only after some months of suffering that the 
disease settled down upon a particular limb, and left 
him with a rheumatic lameness of the left arm and right 
foot, which, with an accompanying inflammation in the 



148 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

eyes, hindered him for a long time from resuming his 
habits of active life. He was removed several times 
to the baths of Teplitz with beneficial effect. The 
tedium of convalescence was relieved by study of the 
great authors of Italy, Spain, and Portugal. At an 
earlier period of his life, he had made himself acquainted 
with the languages of these countries, and had produced 
many translations from their poets, particularly an entire 
version of the first canto of Dante's Divina Commedia,* 
and of one of the most beautiful episodes in the Lusiad 
of Camoens. And now, in the season of debility and 
pain, the noble thoughts handed down by the great 
poets of the south as an everlasting possession to the 
world, became to him the springs of new strength and 
dignity. Nor did he cease altogether from direct en- 
deavors for the good of his fellow-men. Even on the 
sick-bed, he found means of affording relief and encour- 
agement to Ernst Wagner, a true and warm-hearted 
friend of his country and of all good men, but whose 
spirit was crushed almost to hopelessness by the pres- 
sure of disease and penury. 

Considerable doubts had arisen as to the propriety 
of placing the new University in a large city like 
Berlin. It was urged that the metropolis presented 
too many temptations to idleness and dissipation to 
render it an eligible situation for a seminary devoted to 
the education of young men. This was the view enter- 
tained by the Minister Stein, but warmly combated by 
Wolff, Fichte, and others. Stein was at length won 

* Printed in the " Vesta" for 1807. 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 149 

over, and the University was opened in 1810. The 
King gave one of the finest palaces of Berlin for the 
purpose, and all the appliances of mental culture were 
provided on the most liberal scale. Learned men of 
the greatest eminence in their respective departments 
were invited from all quarters — Wolff, Fichte, Muller, 
Humboldt, De Wette, Schleiermacher, Neander, Klap- 
roth, and Savigny — higher names than these cannot 
easily be found in their peculiar walks of literature and 
science. By the suffrages of his fellow-teachers, Fichte 
was unanimously elected Rector. 

Thus placed at the head of an institution from which 
so much was expected, Fichte labored unceasingly to 
establish a high tone of moral feeling in the new Uni- 
versity, convinced that thereby he should best promote 
the dignity as well as the welfare of his country. His 
dearest wish was to see Germany free — free alike from 
foreign oppression, and from internal reproach. He 
longed to see the stern sublimity of old Greek citizenship 
reappear among a people whom the conquerors of Greece 
had failed to subdue. And therefore it was before all 
things necessary that they who were to go forth as the 
apostles of truth and virtue, who were to be the future 
representatives among the people of all that is dignified 
and sacred, should themselves be deeply impressed 
with the high nature of their calling, and keep unsul- 
lied the honor which must guide and guard them in 
the discharge of its duties. He therefore applied him- 
self to the reformation of such features in the student- 
life as seemed irreconcilable with its nobleness, — to 
the suppression of the Landsmannschaften, and of the 
12* 



150 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

practice of duelling. Courts of honor, composed of 
the students themselves, decided upon all such quarrels 
as had usually led to personal encounters. During his 
two years' rectorship, Fichte laid the foundation of the 
character which the University still maintains, of being 
the best regulated, as well as one of the most efficient 
schools in Germany. 

The year 1S12 was an important one for Europe, 
and particularly for Germany. The gigantic power 
of Napoleon had now reached its culminating point. 
Joseph Bonaparte reigned at Madrid, and Murat at 
Naples ; — Austria was subdued, and the fair daughter 
of the House of Hapsburg had united her fate to that 
of the conqueror of her race ; — Prussia lay at his 
mercy ; — Holland and the Free towns were annexed 
to the territory of France, which now extended from 
Sicily to Denmark. One thing alone was wanting to 
make him sole master of the -continent of Europe, and 
that was the conquest of Russia. His passion for 
universal dominion led him into the great military error 
of his life, — the attempt to conquer a country defended 
by its climate from his power, and which, even if sub- 
dued, could never have been retained. He rushed on 
to the fate which sooner or later awaits unbridled ambi- 
tion. The immense armies of France were poured 
through Germany upon the North, to find a grave 
amid the snows of Smolensk, or in the waters of the 
Berezina. 

And now Prussia resolved to make a decisive effort 
to throw off a yoke which had always been hateful to 
her. The charm was now broken which made men 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 151 

look on the might of Napoleon as invincible ; — the 
unconquerable battalions had been routed ; fortune had 
turned against her former favorite. The King entered 
into alliance with the Russian Emperor, and in January 
1813, having retired from Berlin to Breslau, he sent 
forth a proclamation, calling upon the youth of the 
country to arm themselves in defence of its liberty. 
Nobly was his appeal responded to. The nation rose 
as one man ; all distinctions were forgotten in the high 
enthusiasm of the time ; prince and peasant, teacher 
and scholar, artisan and merchant, poet and philoso- 
pher, swelled the ranks of the army of liberation. 

Fichte now renewed his former application to be 
permitted to accompany the troops, in the capacity of 
preacher or orator, that he might share their dangers, 
and animate their courage. Difficulties arising in the 
way of this arrangement, he resolved to remain at his 
post in Berlin, and to continue his lectures until he and 
his scholars should be called personally to the defence 
of their country. The other professors united with 
him in a common agreement, that the widows and chil- 
dren of such of their number as fell in the war should 
be provided for by the cares of the survivors. It is 
worthy of remark, that amid this eager enthusiasm, 
Fichte resolutely opposed the adoption of any pro- 
ceedings against the enemy which might cast dishonor 
on the sacred cause of freedom. While a French 
garrison still held Berlin, one of his students revealed 
to him a plan for firing their magazine during the night. 
Fichte immediately disclosed the whole to the super- 
intendent of police, by whose timely interference the 
scheme was defeated. 



152 MEMOIR OF FICHTE 

During the summer of 1813, Fichte delivered from 
the Academical Chair those views of the existing cir- 
cumstances of his country, and of the war in which it 
was engaged, which he was prevented from communi- 
cating to the arm}' directly. These lectures were 
afterwards printed, under the title of " Ueber den 
Begriff des wahren Kriegs," — (On the idea of a true 
war.) With a clearness and energy of thought which 
seemed to increase with the difficulties and danger of his 
country, he roused an irresistible opposition to proposals 
of peace which, through the mediation of Austria, were 
offered during the armistice in June and July. The 
demands of Napoleon left Germany only a nominal 
independence ; a brave and earnest people sought for 
true freedom. " A stout heart and no peace," was 
Fichte's motto, and his countrymen agreed with him. 
Hostilities were re-commenced in August, 1813. 

In the beginning of the winter half-year, Fichte re- 
sumed his philosophical prelections at the University. 
His subject was an introduction to philosophy upon an 
entirely new plan, which should render his system 
much more easily attainable. He had now accom- 
plished the great object of his life, — the completion, in 
his own mind, of that scheme of knowledge by which 
his name was to be known to posterity. Existing in 
his own thought as one clear and comprehensive whole, 
he believed that he could now communicate it to 
others, in a simpler and more intelligible form than it 
had yet assumed. It was therefore his intention to 
devote the following summer to this purpose, and leave 
behind him a finished record of his philosophy in its 



MEMOIR OF F1CHTE. 



153 



maturity and completeness. But fate had ordered 
otherwise. 

The vicinity of Berlin to the seat of the great strug- 
gle on which the liberties of Germany were depending, 
rendered it the most eligible place for the reception of 
the wounded and diseased. The hospitals of the city 
were crowded, and the ordinary attendants of these 
establishments were found insufficient in number to sup- 
ply the wants of the patients. The authorities there- 
fore called upon the inhabitants for their assistance, and 
Fichte's wife was one of the first who responded to the 
call. The noble and generous disposition which had 
rendered her the worthy companion of the philosopher, 
now led her forth, regardless of danger, to give all her 
powers to woman's holiest ministry. Not only did she 
labor with unresisting assiduity to assuage the bodily 
sufferings of the wounded, and to surround them with 
every comfort which their situation required, and which 
she had the power to supply ; she likewise poured 
words of consolation into many a breaking heart, and 
awakened new strength and faithfulness in those who 
were ' ready to perish.' 

For five months she pursued with uninterrupted de- 
votion her attendance at the hospitals, and, although 
not naturally of a strong constitution, she escaped the 
contagion which surrounded her. But on the 3d of 
January, 1814, she was seized with a nervous fever, 
which speedily rose to an alarming height, so that 
almost every hope of her recovery was lost. Fichte's 
affection never suffered him to leave her side, except 
during the time of his lectures. It is an astonishing 



154 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

proof of his self-command, that after a day of anxious 
watching at the death-bed, as it seemed, of her he held 
dearest on earth, he should be able to address his class 
in the evening, for two consecutive hours, on the most 
profound and abstract subjects of human speculation, — 
uncertain whether, on his return, he might find that 
loved one still alive. At last, the crisis of the fever 
was past, and Fichte received again the faithful partner 
of his cares, rescued from the grave. 

But even in this season of joy, in the embrace of 
gratulation he received the seeds of death. Scarcely 
was his wife pronounced out of danger, than he himself 
caught the infection, and was attacked by the insidious 
disease. Its first symptom was nervous sleeplessness, 
which resisted the effect of baths, and the other usual 
remedies. Soon, however, the true nature of the mal- 
ady was no longer doubtful, and during the rapid pro- 
gress of his illness, his lucid moments became shorter 
and less frequent. In one of these he was told of 
Blucher's passage of the Rhine, and the final expulsion 
oi the French from Germany. That spirit-stirring in- 
formation touched a chord that roused him from his 
unconsciousness, and he awoke to a bright and glorious 
vision of a better future for his fatherland. The tri- 
umphant excitement mingled itself with his fevered 
fancies : — he imagined himself in the midst of the 
victorious struggle, striking for the liberties of Ger- 
many ; — and then again it was against his own disease 
that he fought, and power of will and firm resolu- 
tion were the arms by which he was to conquer it. 
Shortly before his death, when his son approached him 



MEMOIR OF F1CHTE. j 155 

with medicine, he said, with his usual look of deep af- 
fection — u Let it alone ; I need no more medicine : 
I feel that I am well." On the eleventh day of his 
illness, on the night of the 27th January, 1814, he 
died. The last hours of his life were passed in deep 
and unbroken sleep. 

Fichte died in his fifty-second year, with his bodily 
and mental faculties unimpaired by age ; scarcely a 
grey hair shaded the deep black upon his bold and erect 
head. In stature he was low, but powerful and mus- 
cular. His step was firm, and his whole appearance 
and address bespoke the rectitude, firmness, and earn 
estness of his character 

His widow survived him for five years. By the 
kindness of the Monarch she was enabled to pass the 
remainder of her life in ease and competence, devoting 
herself to the superintendence of her son's education. 
She died on the 29th January, 1819, after an illness of 
seven days. 

Fichte died as he had lived, — the priest of knowl- 
edge, the apostle of freedom, the martyr of humanity. 
His character stands written in his life, a massive but 
severely simple whole. It has no parts ; — the depth 
and earnestness on which it rests, speak forth alike in 
his thoughts, words, and actions. No man of his time — 
few perhaps of any time — exercised a more powerful, 
spirit-stirring influence over the minds of his fellow- 
countrymen. The impulse which he communicated to 
the national thought, extended far beyond the sphere of 
his personal influence ; — it has awakened — it will 



156 MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 

still awaken — high emotion and manly resolution in 
thousands who never heard his voice. The ceaseless 
effort of his life was to rouse men to a sense of the 
divinity of their own nature — to fix their thoughts upon 
a spiritual life, as the only true and real life — to teach 
them to look upon all else as mere show and unreality, 
and thus to lead them to constant effort after the highest 
Ideal of purity, virtue, independence and self-denial. 
To this ennobling enterprise he consecrated his being ; 
to it he devoted his gigantic powers of thought, his iron 
will, his resistless eloquence. But he also taught it in 
deeds more eloquent than words. In the strong reality 
of his life, — in his intense love for all things beautiful 
and true, — in his incorruptible integrity and heroic de- 
votion to the right, we see a living manifestation of his 
principles. His life is the true counterpart of his phi- 
losophy ; — it is that of a strong, free, incorruptible 
man. And with all the sternness of his morality, he is 
full of gentle and generous affections, of deep, over- 
flowing sympathies. No tone of love, no soft breath- 
ing of tenderness, fall unheeded on that high, royal soul, 
but in its calm sublimity find a welcome and a home. 
Even his hatred is the offspring of a higher love. Truly 
indeed has he been described by one of our own coun- 
try's brightest ornaments, as a "colossal, adamantine 
spirit, standing erect and clear, like a Cato Major 
among degenerate men ; fit to have been the teacher of 
the Stoa, and to have discoursed of beauty and virtue 
in the groves of Academe." But the sublimity of his 
intellect casts no shade on the soft current of his affec- 
tions, which flows, pure and unbroken, through the 



MEMOIR OF FICHTE. 157 

whole course of his life, to enrich, fertilize, and adorn 
it. In no other man of modern times do we find the 
stern grandeur of ancient virtue so blended with the 
kindlier humanities of our nature, which flourish best 
under a gentler civilization. We prize his philosophy 
deeply ; it is to us an invaluable possession, for it seems 
the noblest exposition to which we have yet listened, of 
human nature and divine truth ; but with reverent thank- 
fulness we acknowledge a still higher debt, for he has 
left behind him the best gift which man can bequeath 
to man — a brave, heroic human life. 



In the first churchyard from the Oranienburg gate of 
Berlin, stands a tall obelisk with this inscription : — 

THE TEACHERS SHALL SHINE 

AS THE BRIGHTNESS OF THE FIRMAMENT ; 

AND THEY THAT TURN MANY TO RIGHTEOUSNESS 

AS THE STARS FOR EVER AND EVER. 

It marks the grave of Fichte. The faithful partner 
of his life sleeps at his feet. 



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